


ZOINKS!

by peacharizona



Category: Lunch Club, The Misfits (Podcast), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Boys Being Boys, Deal with a Devil, Death, Demons, Gen, Ghost Hunters, Ghosts, Heaven & Hell, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Marijuana, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ouija, Possession, Recreational Drug Use, Vaping, Visions in dreams, Witchcraft, gets complicated fast, gun., half crack half serious, i also hate british people, i hate australians, i've never been to LA and it shows, mcyt - Freeform, trying to write characters much funnier than i am accurately
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:09:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacharizona/pseuds/peacharizona
Summary: “Do you actually believe in ghosts?” Noah asks in surprise.“Uh, yeah,” Travis says, like it’s obvious. “Who doesn’t?”“Not me,” Noah says dismissively.“Me neither,” Carson agrees.They look to Cooper.“I’m undecided,” Cooper says casually.The story of how a rag tag team of college kids unintentionally became ghost hunters and saved LA. Sort of.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 146
Kudos: 179





	1. one. maybe this ghost just loves to blaze it

**Author's Note:**

> i'm well aware of the controversy surrounding lunch club fics, so no need to comment on it. this is all in good fun, there's no shipping or explicit violence, and the more heavier topics are mostly concerning the misfits, who have expressed their complete indifference on those topics. plus, i highly doubt anyone in this fic is lurking around ao3- all power to them if they are tho lmao. if you've still got beef with the fic, you're welcome to keep scrolling!
> 
> all that being said, i hope you enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm well aware of the controversy surrounding lunch club fics, so no need to comment on it. this is all in good fun, there's no shipping or explicit violence, and the more heavier topics are mostly concerning the misfits, who have expressed their complete indifference on those topics. plus, i highly doubt anyone in this fic is lurking around ao3- all power to them if they are tho lmao. if you've still got beef with the fic, you're welcome to keep scrolling!
> 
> all that being said, i hope you enjoy!

“I don’t think they’re showing, man.”

Carson glances up from his phone to glance over at Noah, who’s slouched in the driver’s seat.

“For real?” Carson asks him.

“Well, yeah,” Noah shrugs, sticking his hands in the pockets of his trademark green bomber jacket. “I mean, you told them to meet us here at eleven and it’s like eleven thirty, so…”

“No, no, Noah, you gotta plan with Cooper and Travis,” Carson cuts in, gesturing dismissively. “I give them a half hour grace period. This was always the plan. ‘S fine as long as we get in by midnight.”

“What happens at midnight?” Noah questions.

“Witching hour, dude,” Carson says nonchalantly.

Noah snorts.

“You don’t actually in believe that, uh, that mumbo jumbo, do you?” Noah asks critically.

“Not really, no,” Carson admits. “But Josh does, and I try to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

Noah hums in acknowledgement and digs in his pocket, pulling out his vape.

“Hey, man, no juuling on the job,” Carson chides him. “This is serious ghost hunting business.”

“I thought I was just the getaway driver,” Noah says, twirling the vape between his fingers.

“Which also means you shouldn’t be juuling,” Carson points out. “But no, Noah, you’re the brains of this operation. The, uh, the, the biting wit.”

“Really,” Noah says, quirking an eyebrow. “Interesting. So what are Cooper and Travis, then?”

“Cooper’s the muscle, and Travis is there in case we need to sacrifice anyone,” Carson says. “It’s common sense, really.”

“And what’re you?” Noah asks, amused.

“The fearless leader, obviously,” Carson answers, laughing at himself before he can even finish the sentence.

“Obviously,” Noah says dryly.

The gleam of a car’s headlights entering the parking lot makes both of them jump. Even though neither of them claim to believe in ghosts, there was still an aura of guiltiness around them lurking in the parking lot, even if they hadn’t done the real breaking and entering yet. Both of them relax as they realize it’s not a security guard coming to tell them to leave, but rather Cooper’s beat up Toyota rounding the corner.

“Only,” Noah glances over at the car’s clock. “Twenty seven minutes late. That’s gotta be a Cooper record.”

“I’ll get him a trophy later,” Carson says absently, opening the car door, grabbing his backpack, and hopping out.

Noah follows suit, then locks the car, as Cooper pulls up haphazardly across about three parking spots near them. He rolls down the driver’s side window, leaning out with a stupid grin on his face.

“How much for a night, you sexy bitch?” he cackles.

“You can’t afford me, hot stuff,” Carson responds immediately. “Did you bring the ape?”

“I’m here!” Travis hollers from the passenger seat.

Cooper parks, still not anywhere near being in a parking spot, and steps out, Travis emerging from the other side of the car.

“You got the goods?” Carson asks conspiratorially.

Cooper frowns at him.

“We didn’t save any weed for you, man,” he says. “Sorry.”

“No, I mean, the- save- are you guys high right now?” Carson splutters.

Cooper utters a hasty “no!” at the same time Travis triumphantly exclaims, “we hotboxed the car!”

“Uh, that was a joke,” Travis says quickly off of Cooper’s look.

“Guys, I want to take this seriously,” Carson complains. “Josh really seems disturbed by it.”

“Isn’t he usually?” Cooper asks.

Carson rolls his head back in annoyance.

“Yeah, a little bit, but not like this,” he says firmly. “Trust me, guys, I know Josh, and I know that at least  _ he  _ thinks it’s serious. Look, we go down, kick some shit around, don’t find any ghosts, and then we report back so he can have peace of mind. That’s all.”

“Or we find a ghost,” Travis puts in brightly.

“Do you actually believe in ghosts?” Noah asks in surprise.

“Uh, yeah,” Travis says, like it’s obvious. “Who doesn’t?”

“Not me,” Noah says dismissively.

“Me neither,” Carson agrees.

They look to Cooper.

“I’m undecided,” Cooper says casually. “I didn’t think so, but me n’ Travis had a real fuckin’ good conversation about it on the way here, and I dunno, maybe I’m open.”

“Oh, so you’re just really high,” Noah concludes. “Now that we’ve compromised the sobriety of our team, permission to take a fat rip, Sergeant King?”

“Permission denied, Captain Box,” Carson frowns. “I want at least one other clear mind while breaking and entering into a building.”

“Well, you have Josh’s key card,” Noah points out. “So we’re not  _ really  _ breaking and entering. Just… entering.”

“Yeah, you can explain that to the police,” Carson scoffs. “But seriously, Cooper, did you bring it?”

“Oh, that’s what you meant,” Cooper says, smiling lazily in realization. “Yeah, dude, hold on.”

He opens the door to the back seat of his car, and his skateboard immediately rolls out, getting a couple feet into the parking lot before he steps on the end to stop it. Once it’s not in motion, Carson can see the Ouija board messily taped onto it.

“The fuck is this?” he asks, after a moment of the four of them staring at it.

“Uh, y’know,” Cooper starts. “I figured, for mobility-”

“Ouija board!” Travis interrupts triumphantly.

There’s a moment of stunned silence before Carson wheezes despite himself. That sets off all four of them, laughing way louder than the stealth level of their mission allows for.

“That was so bad, Travis,” Carson sighs once he’s collected himself.

“You’re a genius, Travis,” Cooper grins, clapping his shoulder.

Carson crosses to the Ouija board and pulls the actual board off, balling up the duct tape. He stuffs the board into his backpack.

“Why’d you destroy the Ouija board?” Travis complains.

“It feels somewhat disrespectful, I’m not gonna lie,” Carson snorts. “It’s not a toy, yknow.”

“I bought this from Toys R Us when I was sixteen,” Cooper says dryly.

“Shut up,” Carson grins as Noah laughs. “Everyone take a flashlight.”

He hands out the four flashlights he’s managed to scrape together from soliciting throughout their entire dorm building. The four of them lived in a suite in the shittiest dorm on Long Beach’s campus, an all boys dorm which wore that title with pride. It was ridiculously hard to find four working flashlights- with batteries!- among a bunch of technically adult men, but Carson guessed that beggars couldn’t be choosers, as he wasn’t about to spend the twenty dollars in his account on flashlights.

“You bring a like, EMF reader or whatever?” Noah asks.

“Does it look like an EMF reader is in the budget, Noah?” Carson snorts. “I had to beg, barter, and steal for some fuckin’ flashlights.”

“Oh, I coulda helped you with that,” Cooper comments casually.

“I literally asked you if you had a flashlight,” Carson says.

Cooper stares at him blankly for a second.

“Oh, you said  _ flash _ light,” he realizes.

The parking lot is silent for a moment.

“We should probably stop loitering and head in,” Noah suggests.

“Yeah, okay,” Carson agrees, pulling out Josh’s lanyard with his ID on it.

They head toward the office building across the parking lot, Cooper gliding slowly on his skateboard alongside the three of them walking. It’s a fairly nondescript looking firm, where Josh is supposed to be helping edit for a news company for his internship, but mostly he just gets them coffee and fetches equipment from the basement, where the trouble all started. Josh swears up and down that he’s seen shit move around or felt another presence there with him. He’s also reported a strong weed stench, but refuses to consider that maybe the weird shit is due to some coworkers using it as their smoke break, since he’s never seen another person down there.

“Aren’t there, like, security cameras?” Noah asks as they reach the front door.

“They wouldn’t check them unless they had a reason to, right?” Carson points out, scanning Josh’s ID and waiting for the green light on the sensor. “I think, anyway.”

“If this goes to shit, I’ll take the blame,” Cooper decides, kicking up his skateboard and picking it up. “I’m the only one who would survive prison.”

“I would,” Travis argues.

“Especially Travis,” Cooper says.

“Nothing’s going to shit, and we’re not going to jail,” Carson cuts in irritably, opening the door after the beep. “We’re a bunch of white guys, remember? Now come on.”

The ground floor is completely dark except for a faint amount of moonlight leaking in from the windows, so the four of them click their flashlights on. The elevator is right near the entrance.

“Light’s not on, I don’t think it’s operational,” Noah comments as he runs his flashlight over it.

“Stair,” Travis says simply, pointing his beam to their right at the stairwell entrance.

“Why say many word when few word do trick?” Carson snickers, as he turns and heads toward the door.

He notes how the rest of them all fall in behind him, which he guesses he deserves from declaring himself the leader. He’s not scared, really, because he doesn’t believe in ghosts, but it’s only human for there to be some uneasiness twisting in his stomach as he opens the heavy door to the pitch black stairwell.

“Why can’t we just turn the lights on?” Cooper complains as they start their descent into the void.

“It’ll alert the system that-”

“Scare away the ghosts,” Travis cuts in seriously.

“Yeah, actually, no, that’s exactly why, Travis,” Carson agrees, trying not to be unnerved by the long shadows their flashlight beams create. “You got it, buddy.”

Their footsteps are ridiculously loud and echoey as they make their way down the metal stairs, every noise bouncing off the concrete walls. It gets chillier as they descend, and Carson’s grateful for his last minute decision to wear his windbreaker, even if the night was pleasant enough above ground.

“So, do we have a game plan if there actually is a ghost?” Cooper asks, breaking the silence.

“Hit it with your fuckin’ skateboard,” Carson suggests.

“Run,” Travis offers.

“Ask when I entered the motherfucking Scooby Doo universe,” Noah answers, amused.

“Ruh roh, Rhaggy,” Travis giggles.

“I’m definitely Fred,” Cooper decides.

“No, you’re Shaggy, dude,” Carson argues. “‘Cause you’re the most stereotypical stoner. I think Noah’s Fred.”

“You’re Velma,” Noah tells Carson decisively.

“Why, because I’m sexy?” Carson snorts.

“No, because you’re blind,” Noah says. “Velma wasn’t even the sexy one, Daphne was.”

“Hey, Velma was a sexy bitch,” Cooper argues.

“Does that make me Velma?” Travis questions.

“You’re the dog, dude,” Cooper laughs.

“Scooby Doo? Y’know, the name of the show?” Carson says incredulously. “How did you forget?”

“Yeah, I’m definitely the dog,” Travis agrees contently.

They’ve reached the end of the stairs at this point, with just a single door labeled “basement”. Carson hesitates as he reaches to open it.

“Are you a pussy?” Cooper taunts him.

“No,” Carson says, turning his head to scowl at him. “You open it, if you wanna whip your dick out and be all manly.”

“Sure,” Cooper says, crossing in front of him to the door. “If it makes you feel better.”

He opens the door and steps inside casually, and even he jumps a little as the electric lights immediately flicker on, filling the space with buzzing.

“Oh, they’re motion activated,” Carson realizes, relaxing. “Jesus, that scared me.”

“There’s ghosts in the lights, man,” Noah jokes, clicking his flashlight off.

“Jeepers!” Carson quips, following Cooper into the basement.

The space stretches back pretty far as far as he can tell, with ceilings low enough so that Carson feels a little claustrophobic as the tallest of them, although he’s not exactly at risk of hitting his head. There’s clutter everywhere, mostly in cardboard boxes or plastic containers, with some equipment scattered around that looks like it would make sense for a TV crew to need. There’s also some seasonal decorations that Carson can see, including multiple plastic Christmas trees and a propped up skeleton prop that scares the shit out of him for a split second. The back of the basement gets shadowier as it goes on, the far wall almost completely shrouded in darkness.

“This place isn’t so spooky,” Cooper comments, dropping his board and heading over to one of the boxes and sifting through the contents. “This is just wires n’ shit.”

“You sure that isn’t Josh’s ghost?” Noah asks Carson, gesturing to the Halloween skeleton with a grin.

“Hello, Mr. Skeleton!” Travis giggles. “Why’s he just sittin’ like that?”

“Give Josh a little credit, Noah,” Carson scoffs. “Besides, he said he just saw shit moving, not a whole fucking skeleton.”

“There’s probably rats or something,” Cooper offers. “Lookit this shit!”

He pulls a sombrero out of a cardboard box.

“Travis, c’mere,” he grins.

Travis frowns, sticking his hands in his sweatshirt pocket.

“Somethin’ gives me weird vibes about that,” he says, sounding a little baffled at himself.

“Yeah, I guess that might turn into some mildly racist shit,” Cooper agrees, tossing it back into the box.

Carson chuckles and heads to the back of the basement to investigate while Cooper continues to rummage through the box of hats. He shines his flashlight over the darkened area, revealing mostly maintenance related shit- a lot of pipes and the like, nothing too paranormal looking. He’s mostly relieved, since he doesn’t quite have the expertise to deal with an actual ghost, but a little disappointed, partially because he wants to prove that Josh isn’t crazy, and partially because he wants to rub it in Noah’s face. 

“Find any ghouls?” The man in question asks over Carson’s shoulder, scaring the shit out of him.

“Jesus, dude,” he laughs, turning to face him.

“How did you not hear me coming?” Noah snorts.

“Was tuning out those two arguing about hats,” Carson answers, gesturing to Cooper and Travis.

Cooper has since donned a cowboy hat, and is wrestling with Travis to force a rather large and theatrical cavalier hat, complete with a feather, on top of his wild curls.

“I don’t want your smelly hats, Cooper,” Travis is saying firmly, knocking the cavalier hat out of his hands. “They smell weird and probably have spiders in them.”

“You two, cut it out,” Noah calls. “Don’t you know this is a serious ghost hunt?”

“Speaking of which, should we break out the board, Carson?” Cooper asks, straightening his cowboy hat.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Carson agrees, slinging the backpack off his shoulder and placing it in the middle of the dirty concrete floor.

He pulls out the Ouija board and planchette, sitting criss cross applesauce like he’s waiting for circle time in kindergarten, placing the board on the ground in front of him. The other three fall in formation around it, Travis hugging his knees to his chest.

“I’ve never done this before,” Travis comments, eyeing the board warily. “Why’s it say, uh, oh-uh-ee-jah…?”

“Trav- Travis, that says ouija,” Carson explains.

“No, ouija is w-e-e-g-e-e,” Travis says confidently.

“Travis, you’re wrong,” Cooper informs him. “You’re wrong and you’re dumb.”

“You’re dumb,” Travis fires back with charactistic eloquence.

“We’re gonna scare the ghosts away, guys,” Noah says dryly.

“Stop it, Noah,” Carson chides him. “You two, also stop it. C’mon, everyone touch the planchette.”

They comply, each of them touching one quarter of the planchette.

“How are your fingers  _ so  _ sweaty, Carson,” Travis giggles.

“I have sticky fingers, Travis, you know this,” Carson responds with a grin. “Okay, we gotta… uh, we ask it a question, first.”

“Is there anyone here with us?” Cooper asks.

They sit in silence for a moment, then the planchette slowly starts to move. Carson’s used a ouija board a couple times, just for fun at parties and shit, and he always didn’t quite understand how one person didn’t just dominate moving the planchette. It seems to be a pretty equal effort from all of them, though, so he doesn’t question it.

“Oh, shit,” Noah laughs at the movement.

Carson and Travis shush him in unison. In a minute, they have their first letter: H.

“If it says hello I’m gonna lose my mind,” Travis says.

The comment doesn’t bode well as the planchette slides to the left to their second letter: E.

“Aw shit,” Cooper grins. “Start losin’ it, Travis.”

“Shut up,” Travis snaps.

However, Travis’s prophecy isn’t fulfilled, as the planchette slides next to Y. 

“Hey,” Noah reads. “Okay, so it’s a casual ghost.”

They watch as the planchette slides around again, a little faster this time. It repeats its same path: H-E-Y.

“Hey,” Cooper repeats. “Just again. Hey, dude.”

Then, once more, even more fluidly this time, H-E-Y.

“Yeah, hey, we get it,” Carson snorts.

“We hear ya, buddy,” Cooper says. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Should we ask another question?” Carson asks.

“Josh said he’d smelled weed down here before, right?” Cooper asks. “Ask if the ghost likes to blaze it.”

“We are not,” Carson says firmly.

“Respect the ghost, Coop,” Travis chides him.

“I’m respecting it!” Cooper protests.

“You smoke, Mr. Ghost?” Noah asks.

“Noah,” Carson says disapprovingly.

“We gotta keep the ball rolling somehow, don’t we?” Noah shrugs.

The planchette starts to move, keeping its same rapid fire pace that makes Carson suspect that one of them is commandeering it. In a minute, they have H-E-L-Y-E-A.

“Hell yeah,” Noah says out loud, dumbfounded. “Alright, which one of you clowns is moving it?”

“I’m not,” Carson says quickly.

“Nope,” Travis says, shaking his head.

“Cooper, we know it’s you,” Noah accuses.

“I swear to God I’m not,” Cooper says quickly. “I’ll legit take my hands off, dude, it’s not me.”

“I want to try it without Cooper,” Noah says firmly.

“Fine, man,” Cooper says, holding his hands up in surrender. “It’s not me, I swear.”

“Ask another question with him,” Noah says. “This is why ouija boards are bullshit, one person can just fuck with the whole thing.”

“Okay, uh, what are you doing here?” Carson asks. “Besides smoking weed, I guess.”

The planchette almost seems to hesitate for a moment. Then it slides to, picking up speed as it goes along. P-I-M-P.

“Pimp?” Carson echoes, laughing despite himself.

But the planchette isn’t done. They get more letters, ending up with C-H-I-M-P-I-N.

“Pimp chimpin’?” Carson reads.

Travis giggles, causing Noah to scowl.

“Okay, that has you written all over it, Travis,” he scoffs. “Pimp chimpin’? That’s not- that’s not even a thing people say.”

“It wasn’t me!” Travis protests, his voice reaching his defensive high register. “I’m barely touching it, Noah!”

“Am I really supposed to believe that the board just, just randomly-”

“It’s not random, dude,” Cooper cuts in, arms crossed and a smug look on his face. “It’s a ghost.”

“Fuck you,” Noah says.

“Guys,” Carson cuts in, staring at the board. “The planchette’s bein’ weird.”

The four of them watch as the planchette makes lazy circles around the board, drawing figure eights across the letters, not pausing on any of them.

“Guys, I don’t like this,” Travis says.

“That’s supposed to be bad,” Cooper says suddenly. “I remember now, the figure eights, it’s fuckin’, uh- we should stop. Stop the board.”

“How?” Carson asks, panicked.

“Put it to the, uh, the-” Cooper stammers in haste.

“Goodbye!” Travis says forcefully, taking control of the planchette and dragging it to the  _ goodbye  _ lettering.

He forces the planchette across the letters of the word, the planchette almost feeling like it’s resisting under Carson’s fingers. As soon as Travis completes the word, the planchette goes still, and Carson takes his fingers off of it. Travis and Noah follow suit, and the four of them sit there for a moment in silence.

“That’s supposed to be the spirit tryna like, escape the board,” Cooper says finally. “If I’m remembering correctly. The figure eights, I mean.”

“That’s fucked,” Carson says, dumbfounded. “I mean, that was weird, right?”

“Could just be a coincidence,” Cooper offers. “Power of suggestion, y’know.”

“That’s how ouija boards work,” Noah says. “Even if you don’t think you’re influencing it, you are. It’s human error, man.”

“I guess,” Carson says uncertainly. “It was still weird.”

“It was really weird, and I didn’t like it,” Travis says. “Am I really high right now?”

“Don’t think so,” Cooper laughs. “We smoked the same, and I’m comin’ down. Your tolerance is higher than mine, too.”

“I feel like I’m really high,” Travis frowns. “That was weird, guys!”

“It was a little weird,” Noah admits noncommittally. “But nothing to piss your pants over. At the end of the day, it’s just a piece of wood Cooper bought from Toys R Us.”

“A stoner ghost,” Cooper marvels. “What a fantastic concept.”

“The best kind,” Noah says with a smirk. He looks to Carson. “Well? Say we head out?”

Carson shakes his head.

“I want to look around a little bit more,” he says. “Just for peace of mind, after that.”

“Alright,” Noah says airily, standing up and brushing dirt off his jeans. “Knock yourself out, man.”

Carson gingerly picks up the board and planchette, returning them to his backpack. He heads to the back of the basement again, illuminating the shadowier corners, looking for some kind of possible evidence of a squatter or something like that, anything that was a more reasonable explanation than the supernatural. He mostly finds dust, and a couple stray spiders that he leaves alone but does not appreciate the existence of. He turns back to the rest of the crew, of which Noah is leaning against the wall vaping, which Carson doesn’t even bother to scold him for, Travis is rifling through some containers, and Cooper is lazily skating circles around the area.

“Alright, gang, we can probably head out,” Carson said. “I’m gonna say diagnosis: no ghost.”

“What about weed chimp ghost?” Travis asks.

“Like Cooper said, it’s kinda just the power of suggestion,” Carson shrugs. “I’m not convinced. I get why Josh gets a weird vibe, but I think that’s all there is too it.”

“Maybe there is a brain in that big ol’ head of yours,” Noah grins, then hits his juul again like the frat boy he was meant to be.

Carson knocks on his head.

“Sounds hollow to me,” he says goodnaturedly.

He hears Cooper’s board clatter and turns his head in time to see Cooper eat shit on a failed trick and hit the ground heavily. Carson knows Cooper and his skating well enough to know that he’s not seriously hurt- that, coupled with the fact that Cooper immediately covers his face with his arm and laughs.

“Boo, you suck,” Travis teases him.

“I do, man,” Cooper sighs, but he’s still smiling as he sits up and retrieves his cowboy hat from where it’d been flung off his head as he fell. “Should I cop?”

“No,” Travis groans. “It’s so old and gross. It’s from a basement. I’ll buy you a cowboy hat that doesn’t give you lice.”

“I know for a fact you have 87 cents in your account, Travis,” Cooper snorts. “And plus, I already had lice in elementary school, I’m immune.”

“That’s not how it works!” Travis gripes.

“He’s fucking with you, man,” Noah laughs. “And you should probably put the hat back, Cooper.”

“Yeah, okay,” Cooper agrees, getting to his feet and crossing to the box he’d gotten it out of.

He sets the hat back inside, then Carson sees his face light up as he sets his eyes on something else in the box.

“Now this is the move,” he grins decisively.

He pulls out a large, silver, metallic knight helmet, tossing it casually between his hands.

“Hey, Trav, whaddaya think?” he asks, turning to face him. “Think it’s a fit?”

For some reason, Travis seems incredibly nervous as he lifts the helmet.

“Put it down,” he says immediately. “I don’t like it. The, uh, I don’t like the vibes, Coop, put it down.”

“What is that, like, a crusader helmet?” Carson asks, amused. “Josh would love that.”

“Sure he would,” Cooper says. “And I do too.”

Travis crosses to Cooper, almost flinching as Cooper raises the helmet in his direction.

“Stop it!” Travis snaps.

Travis was pretty easy to rile up, so normally Carson wouldn’t be concerned, but Travis genuinely seemed pretty upset about the whole thing. He was about to say something to mediate the situation, but Cooper cuts him off before he can.

“I’m gonna get so much lice, Travis,” he teases, holding the helmet above his head so Travis can’t knock it out of his hands. He’s a good half a foot taller than Travis, so it’s not hard. “And I’m gonna shake ‘em on your pillow.”

“It’s not that, Cooper, stop messing around,” Travis frowns.

“Too late,” Cooper says casually. “Knight instincts activated. Can’t be avoided.”

With that, he pops the helmet over his tousled blonde hair, earning an immediate groan from Travis.

“Smells like weed in here,” Cooper comments, voice muffled by the thin sheet of metal between him and them. “Maybe that’s Josh’s, uh, weed smell.”

“It’s probably your own breath, dumbass,” Noah snorts.

“Cooper, please just take it off,” Travis says, near pleading now.

“Hey, man, it’s really bothering Travis for whatever reason,” Carson cuts in diplomatically. “We should probably go anyway, just put it away.”

Cooper doesn’t answer for a moment, and it’s almost eerie to see him standing there, face completely covered, silent. A chill runs down Carson’s spine.

“Cooper?” he asks cautiously.

Cooper gives a weak chuckle.

“Sorry, man,” he says. “I got a weird, uh, a weird-”

He stumbles suddenly, leaving heavily on Travis, who steadies him instinctively.

“Whoa, man,” Carson says, also having taken an instinctive step towards Cooper. “You good?”

Cooper, steadier now, takes an awkward side step away from Travis, looking down at his hands like he’s noticing them for the first time.

“Long limbs!” he says cheerily. “Not used to that, heh.”

There’s a weird, nasally quality to his voice that’s different than the muffled quality the mask brings. Carson swallows heavily, glancing over at a baffled looking Noah.

“Do I feel weed in the system? My man!” Cooper continues, cracking his knuckles. “Literally my man right now, I guess. Cooper, was it?”

“This is a weird fuckin’ bit, man,” Noah says reproachfully.

“No bit!” Cooper assures him.

“Cut it out, Cooper,” Carson demands, though his voice shakes with uncertainly.

Travis takes a step back.

“That’s not Cooper,” he says in sudden certainty. He takes another step back, grabbing Carson’s arm. “Carson, that’s not Cooper!”

“Very observant, my friend!” Cooper- Cooper?- crows, flashing an awkwardly executed okay sign. “Fuckin’ Christ, this body’s hard to navigate.”

A cold dread fills Carson’s chest, and he clutches Travis’s arm back, pulling them both back to the wall alongside Noah.

“You’re the ghost from the board,” he breathes, his mouth dry.

“Indeed I am,” the voice coming from Cooper’s body confirms. “No need to look so fuckin’ scared, dude. I’m a helmet. Can’t exactly do much damage. Not that I would want to!”

“So, you’re, uh,” Noah says, looking remarkably calm for the situation. “You’re just, a sentient helmet.”

“Oh, no no no no!” the voice assures him. “I’m a fuckin’ ghost, don’t get it twisted. I’m just trapped in this stupid helmet, for whatever reason. Oh, and friends call me Swagger, by the way, n’ anyone who smokes weed is a friend o’ mine!”

“Swagger?” Travis repeats incredulously.

“It’s dumb, I know, but it’s a nickname from some college friends, and it stuck,” the ghost- Swagger- explains casually. Then, his tone falls a bit more solemn. “Sheesh, I don’t suppose they’re dead, too?”

“I… I don’t know,” Carson says apologetically. “How, uh, how did you die?”

“Ya see,” Swagger starts, crossing Cooper’s arms with a lack of coordination. “I can’t quite remember. It’s been pretty fuzzy. This is the clearest I’ve been able to think for awhile, but I think I might be losin’ dear Cooper here in a moment.”

“What?” Travis questions, alarmed. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“Oh, yeah, should be fine,” Swagger assures him cheerily. “I’m just kinda dukin’ it out with his consciousness right now, and my hold on him isn’t great. Say, would you boys do me a favor? See if you can bring the helmet to someone who knows how the fuck to deal with ghosts. I’m kinda gettin’ sick of this basement.”

Carson shares a look with Travis, then with Noah. Both them seem to be at a loss on how to proceed.

“We can try,” Travis offers.

“Hell yeah, my dude,” Swagger says contentedly. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but you gotta help me out. I’m a prisoner in here, man, it sucks ass.”

“There’s no strings attached for us?” Noah asks cautiously. “You’re not gonna, fuckin’, possess us or some shit?”

“Well, I am possessing Cooper right now,” Swagger points out. “But if you don’t want me, uh, haunting it up or whatever, don’t put the fuckin’ helmet on.”

He stands to sway a little on the spot, and holds a hand up to steady the helmet.

“Speaking of which, I think Cooper’s fuckin’, uh…” his voice seems less harsh and unfamiliar as the sentence progresses. “Fuck, there I go, boys.”

With that, he collapses, Carson and Travis both rushing forward to catch him. Carson can feel that Cooper’s back is drenched in sweat as the two of them cautiously lower him down.

“Take the- take the helmet off,” Travis says urgently.

Noah gingerly removes the helmet, revealing a very pale and dazed looking Cooper.

“Cooper, you good, man?” Carson asks him worriedly.

Cooper blinks a couple times, then sits up, shakily combing his hair back with his fingers.

“Fuck, dude,” he breathes, thankfully in his normal SoCal accent. “Yeah, I’m good.”

With that, Travis whacks his arm.

“I told you, Cooper!” he reprimands him.

“You did,” Cooper laughs tiredly. “I’ll give you that.”

“I told you not to put the helmet on and look what happened!” Travis continues, pushing him for emphasis. “Was I right or was I right?”

“You were right, Travis,” Cooper says indulgently. “Stop shaking me, I feel like I’m gonna puke, dude. That was not pleasant.”

“Now,” Noah says cautiously, still looking entirely too calm and calculating for the situation. “I know Cooper isn’t a good enough actor to do all that just to fuck with us. But are we sure we’re not all experiencing some, some weed-induced mass hallucination, or…?”

“I’m a hundred percent sober, Noah,” Carson points out. “And you hit your vape, like, once.”

“No, no, I know,” Noah says. “But, you know, uh, in Salem, during the witch trials…”

“Oh, fuck  _ off,  _ dude,” Cooper groans, pinching the bridge of his nose and rolling his head back onto Travis’s lap. “That was not a fuckin’, mass hysteria thing. I was a passenger in my own body, dude. That wasn’t even my voice coming out of me. It’s like every thought I had, I had to struggle through that, that Swagger fucker’s  _ barrier. _ ”

“Well, in the trials, the girls really believed they saw the devil, but, y’know-” Noah argues.

“Betty Parris was a lying little bitch and you know it,” Cooper spits with a strange amount of passion.

“Shut the fuck up about the Salem witch trials,” Carson cuts in exasperatedly. “The helmet is fucking haunted. Let’s ditch it and get out of here.”

“Agreed,” Cooper says, sitting up taking the helmet from Noah, then poising himself to throw it across the room.

“Wait!” Travis says. “I… kinda feel bad.”

“The fuck, Travis?” Cooper scoffs, lowering the helmet. “You were literally so against the helmet from the start, dude!”

“I know!” Travis protests. “But, I don’t know, he’s just stuck here. That’s really sad. And we said we would help him.”

“And I said that ghosts don’t exist, like, literally half an hour ago,” Carson points out. “Look, dude, I don’t trust this guy. We don’t know nearly enough about ghosts to know whether he’s telling the truth or not. You see how much he fucked up Cooper. We don’t know what he’s capable of. Until we find someone that knows what to do, we leave the helmet here.”

“I agree,” Noah chimes in.

“So can I toss this now, or…?” Cooper asks.

“Let’s just carefully conceal it somewhere,” Carson suggests instead.

“And then come back later?” Travis suggests hopefully.

“Sure, Travis,” Carson sighs. “If we can figure out how to deal with it safely, we’ll come back.”

“You guys can come back, but I sure as hell won’t,” Cooper says decisively, holding out the helmet to Carson. “Here, you deal with it.”

Carson takes it gingerly, afraid he’s going to get possessed as soon as he touches the strangely warm metal. Nothing happens, though, and he curiously turns it upside down, shining the flashlight into the interior of the helmet. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. He’s too scared to actually reach inside the helmet, so he leaves his investigation at that.

“Fuckin’ weird,” he comments under his breath, getting to his feet.

“Hold up, let’s take a picture of it before we leave it,” Noah suggests. “So we can, yknow, show Josh and whoever else we go to.”

“Good idea,” Carson agrees, holding it up for Noah to snap a quick picture on his phone.

“You look so fucking stupid,” Noah snickers, looking down at his screen.

“I literally just saw a ghost, dude,” Carson protests. “Sorry if I’m not my normal glamorous self. How are you so calm, anyway?”

“I’m ignoring the issue, Carson,” Noah replies casually with a wide smile. “Hasn’t processed yet. Check back in a few business days.”

Travis chimes in from across the room, where he’d been sifting through boxes.

“Here,” he says. “Just stick him in one of the boxes at the bottom. They’re all dusty, I don’t think anyone looks down here.”

“It sounds like Josh is the only one who goes down here, anyway, but that’s a good idea just in case,” Carson agrees, crossing to Travis.

He places the helmet carefully in a box full of dusty old tissue paper, nestling it on top of the pastel sheets. Him and Travis stand over the box for a moment before Carson closes the box back up and pushes it back against the wall, moving the boxes around it that Travis had moved out of the way back on top of it.

“Bye, Swagger,” Travis says in a small voice.

“Don’t be nice to the ghost,” Cooper calls from where he’s still lying on the floor, hands folded under his head.

“He didn’t choose to be a ghost,” Travis protests. “Stop being, uh, ghost-ist.”

“Cancel me, bitch, I don’t care,” Cooper retorts. “I’ll say it: fuck ghosts. All of ‘em.”

“Even Casper?” Noah asks.

“Especially Casper,” Cooper says. “I don’t trust that fucker.”

“You’ve got a lot of spicy takes today, Cooper,” Carson comments, amused. “You good to walk, man?”

“Travis, help me up,” Cooper says, sticking a hand up in the air.

Travis takes it obediently and helps him to his feet, where he scrubs his eyes with the heels of his palms tiredly, but stays stable.

“We should probably head out,” Carson decides, glancing at his phone and seeing it was a quarter past midnight. “Josh is a fucking freak with a normal sleep schedule, so I don’t think he’s awake. We can just go and tell him all this in person tomorrow morning.”

“Cooper, are you gonna be okay driving?” Travis asks, handing him his skateboard.

“Thanks,” Cooper says, taking it from him. “And I’m an expert at driving while impaired, Travis. I think I’m good.”

Cooper’s flippant attitude about driving would probably concern Carson more if Cooper wasn’t about the best driver he knew, especially considering the percentage of the time that he was high while driving. Suddenly, Noah laughs, sounding a little overwhelmed. Carson glances over at him curiously.

“You good, dude?” he asks.

Noah combs his hair back with his fingers and lets out a sharp exhale.

“Guys,” he says, without any sarcasm or irony, “I think that was actually a ghost.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there! this fic is going to contain a wide variety of special guest appearances from all around the youtube and twitch community, but will stay heavily focused on lunch club and the misfits. i'll keep updating the character tags as they appear! i've got a few chapters written for this already, so expect semi regular updates for awhile, at least. kudos and comments mean so much to me, so if u wanna tell me your thoughts on this first chapter, i'd love to hear it! thanks for reading :)


	2. two. coke addiction

At the beginning of the school year, when the idea of their friend group doing a quad together was posed, Josh had been quick to decline. It was fair- Josh was the only one of them that was going into the year with an actual internship, and besides for Cooper dealing on the side and Noah’s short, ill-fated run working at Game Stop, none of them had any real jobs or discipline to their schedules outside of classes. Despite not drinking or doing drugs, Carson was still social enough to enjoy parties, and tagged along with the other three when they would go out, and didn’t mind when there were parties thrown in their quad. All in all, he was compatible enough with the others’ stoner-ish lifestyles to not mind living with them- Josh, not so much. So it was probably a good thing that he’d opted out of the quad and decided to just apply for normal housing in the same building.

Carson sleeps very little that night- it’s hard to, with the newfound knowledge that ghosts are, apparently, very much real. Well, evidently not for everyone, since Travis’s telltale snoring tells him that his roommate is having no trouble sleeping. He spends most of the night scrolling the Wikipedia page for “ghost”, and filling his search history with dumb shit like “LA ghost hunters”, most of which he immediately writes off as frauds- as if there are real ghost hunters- as if Carson is well-versed enough in ghost hunting that he would be able to identify frauds. He absently wonders if they could get Buzzfeed Unsolved on the case. Eventually, he gives up and gets a few shitty hours of sleep.

In the morning, after showering and having a hearty breakfast of dry cereal from their stockpile in the main room of their suite, Carson and the others head down to Josh’s room. He’s two floors down, since the top floor is only suite style dorms like the four of them have. The elevator is broken, and has been for the past three weeks, so they take the stairs.

“I still feel shitty, man,” Cooper gripes as they head down the unnecessarily hot stairwell. “It’s like I’m hungover.”

Cooper looks about how Carson feels. His eye bags are more prominent than usual, and his eyes are red in a way reminiscent of him being high, but are more likely the result of a bad night of sleep.

“Ghost hangover,” Travis giggles. “Ghangover.”

Travis, of course, looks lively as ever, given the sleep he evidently got. His sweatshirt strings are pulled way down, the hood leaving only his cheery face visible. Noah, on the other hand, is characteristically quiet, but in a way that made Carson a little nervous about him. He seemed more shaken about the whole ghost realization than the rest of them, probably because of how adamantly against the concept of their existence up until last night.

“You good, Noah?” he asks.

“His pride’s just wounded that we proved him wrong,” Cooper snorts, sticking his hands into the pocket of his Supreme sweatshirt.

Noah rolls his eyes, digging his vape out of his pocket.

“Shut up, man,” he grumbles, going to take a hit.

“Don’t, the stairwell’s gonna smell like artificial mango for the next week,” Carson groans.

Noah makes a face and hits it anyway.

“It’s cool mint,” he corrects him, blowing out vapor as he does.

“Oh, my bad,” Carson says sarcastically.

They reach Josh’s floor and Carson holds the door for the rest of them, because he’s just a gentleman like that, and they head to Josh’s dorm. They all exchange polite greetings with Jordan, the floor’s RA, who politely pretends not to notice Noah’s very visible vape as he walks past. When they reach Josh’s door, adorned extensively with paper Nintendo characters, Carson knocks a few times. It’s a moment before the door opens, revealing Josh’s roommate still in pajamas.

There’s a general enthusiastic chorus of “Charlie!”, to which he grins.

“Hey guys!” he greets them. “You lookin’ for Josh? He just went to brush his teeth, he’ll be back in a sec.”

“We actually just came to see you, Charlie,” Cooper says wryly. “We didn’t even know you had a roommate, to be honest.”

Charlie laughs and waves them inside.

“I’m honored, guys,” he says, taking a seat on his bed. “Make yourself at home.”

None of them knew Charlie before Josh had been assigned to room with him, but Carson was pretty sure he spoke for all of them when he said that they were all incredibly grateful that fate had had them meet. Charlie mostly kept different circles than them- even though he was a media major like most of them, he was the president of the campus DnD club and mostly spent time with that crowd. Even so, he would still drop by any parties they hosted in their dorm, and was generally regarded as a ray of sunshine by all of them. Him and Josh were both just functional enough that they worked well together, and neither got annoyed with each other if they were up late working on a campaign or speed running Super Mario for the seventieth time, respectively.

Carson takes Josh’s bed, while Cooper and Travis each take a desk chair, and Noah absently leans against the wall.

“You ever seen a ghost, Charlie?” Travis asks casually, tilting Josh’s desk chair back haphazardly.

“Travis,” Cooper hisses like a scolding parent.

“You bet your ass I have, Travis,” Charlie responds with equal nonchalance.

“Wh- Really?” Carson splutters.

“Yeah,” Charlie says, crossing his arms casually. “Not to brag or anything.”

“When?” Travis asks eagerly.

“Uh, about a year ago, now, I think,” Charlie estimates. “You guys know Condi and Grizz?”

“Yeah, they’re your DnD friends, right?” Carson recalls. “They came to one of our parties?”

“Yeah, them,” Charlie nods. “Well, they stayed in that dorm that they just knocked down freshman year, last year it was still up. I forget its name, but you know the one, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, the super shitty one,” Cooper says. “Without air conditioning or anything.”

“It did not have air conditioning,” Charlie confirms. “It did, however, have a ghost. So I guess in the end there was something pretty…  _ chilling  _ about it.”

“Charlie, that was terrible,” Carson says fondly. “You never cease to amaze me.”

“We’re really gonna focus on the pun instead of the ghost?” Cooper asks.

“It was a pretty good pun,” Travis points out.

“So, you saw a ghost in their dorm?” Carson asks, trying to push the conversation back in the right direction.

Charlie makes a face and tilts his hand back and forth noncommittally.

“Not really,” he admits. “I didn’t really see a ghost, I guess, technically. But I saw shit move on its own all the time. Their textbooks would go missing, cups would knock over for no reason, and sometimes you could just hear, like,  _ crying.  _ And it was not Condi about organic chem, for once.”

“I mean, that could all kinda be coincidence, though, right?” Noah comments nonchalantly.

“I guess,” Charlie frowns. “But they were definitely convinced it was a ghost. And once, I slept over in their dorm one night during finals week, and all three of us had the exact same sleep paralysis. It was fuckin’ crazy!”

“That’s so scary,” Travis gasps.

“It was  _ haunting _ , to say the least,” Charlie smirks. “But for real, it was nuts. We all three had nightmares where a figure was kneeling on our chest, choking us and  _ crying _ .”

“Ew, I hate that,” Carson winces. “Jesus.”

“So what did you do?” Cooper asks.

They all jump as the dorm door opens, and Josh walks in, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand. He frowns and puts his hands up defensively.

“Just me,” he says. “What, were you gossiping about me, or something?”

“Oh, I  _ so  _ wanted you to say you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Charlie grins. “I guess people don’t really say that in real life, though.”

Josh closes the door behind him and sticks his toothbrush and toothpaste into the cup on his desk, taking a seat next to Carson on his bed.

“Ghost?” he echoes. “So, is this about…?”

He glances at Carson questioningly.

“Well, not really,” Carson explains. “But, like, the topic.”

“Travis brought it up,” Cooper mentions. “But, we didn’t know if Charlie, like…”

“I haven’t really talked about it,” Josh says.

Charlie blinks.

“Am I having a stroke, or did none of you just say a complete thought?” he laughs. “Am I intruding on something?”

“No, not at all,” Josh says quickly. “Basically, I thought there was a ghost at my internship. But I only really told Carson about it, because I knew I was just being stupid and paranoid. He and the boys offered to check it out last night, but I didn’t hear from them, so I’m sure nothing happened and it was just me being dumb.”

He laughs, then his smile immediately drops at the rest of their expressions staying serious.

“You’re fucking with me,” he says skeptically. At no response, he adds, “Carson, I’m gonna fucking kill you if this is a joke.”

“It’s not, Josh, I promise,” Carson says.

Josh drags a hand down his face.

“Holy shit,” he mumbles. “Charlie, Diet Coke me.”

“Your Coke addiction is getting out of hand, my dude,” Charlie grins, leaning over to open their mini fridge and tossing him a bottle.

“I can stop whenever I want,” Josh insists adamantly, catching the bottle and opening it.

“Is that why you asked if I’d seen a ghost?” Charlie asks Travis. “Because you guys just did?”

“Well, not  _ seen _ , exactly,” Carson amends. “More like heard.”

“I hate it here,” Josh declares. “Tell me what happened before I shit my pants.”  
“I have no control over you not being potty trained, Josh,” Carson deadpans. “But, okay, so we met up at like 11:30…”

He tells the story with as many necessary details as possible, conveniently avoiding the ones like Cooper and Travis hotboxing the car before showing up, or arguing about which Scooby Doo characters were sexy. Carson told them about scouring the basement and using the ouija board, with occasional interjections from Cooper and Travis, then explained their side of seeing Cooper get possessed, with Cooper explaining his own experience of having a marijuana loving ghost hijacking his subconscious. Josh and Charlie just listen for the most part, Charlie every once in awhile asking a clarifying question, but Josh just sitting there reacting in horror throughout.

“Uh, yeah,” Carson finishes lamely. “So we stuffed the helmet in a box and got the fuck out of there.”

“Ho-ly  _ shit _ , dude,” Josh gripes, taking a drink of his Diet Coke like a battle-worn vetern drinking whiskey at a bar to forget the horrors of war. “Okay, I guess I’m never going in the basement again. Thanks for that, never opening that box, possibly quitting my internship.”

“Dude, don’t quit your internship,” Carson says quickly. “C’mon, it’s not that serious.”

“It sucks anyway,” Josh says, tugging at his sweatshirt strings absently. “All I ever do is get shit from the basement. The basement which I will never be going into again.”

“Well… it wasn’t really  _ scary, _ ” Travis reasons. “Once we knew what was going on, I mean.”

“You’re just saying that because it wasn’t all up in your brains, Travis,” Cooper argues.

“Noah was pretty spooked,” Carson grins.

Noah tilts his head back against the wall irritably.

“Yeah, Carson, I was pretty fuckin’ spooked!” he groans. “Is that what you wanted to hear? Seeing all laws of reason and science being defied unnerved me a little bit!”

“Noah, you have like a C in chemistry right now,” Cooper says dryly. “I didn’t know you cared about science so much.”

“I’ll stuff you right back in that helmet,” Noah threatens him, but he’s grinning a little in a sort of defeated way.

“So, Josh, you’re not gonna… tell anyone?” Charlie asks curiously.

Josh scoffs.

“What would I tell them?” he asks. “I had some of my friends break into your building, and they said you got ghosts?”

“Probably wouldn’t sound great,” Carson agrees. “Best course of action is probably to just leave it. I dunno, maybe we should be responsible and dispose of it somehow.”

Charlie looks a little taken aback.

“So you’re not actually gonna go back for him?” he asks.

Carson shares a glance with Cooper, then shrugs.

“I mean, I never really…” he tries defensively. “I mean, it’s dangerous, right? I dunno anything about ghosts. Aren’t you supposed to just leave the supernatural alone if you don’t understand it? I’m not trying to be the white family moving into a haunted house, yknow?”

He laughs nervously, then makes the mistake of glancing over at Travis, who’s got those big ol’ doe eyes and is looking sad in a way that immediately makes Carson feel like he’s been punched in the gut.

“I feel bad,” Travis says, making eye contact with Carson. “He’s trapped, and we said we would help. I don’t like lying.”

“We weren’t lying, Travis,” Carson assures him. “We said if we found someone, we would help. I don’t know about you, but I don’t have any ghostbusters on speed dial.”

“Oh,” Charlie speaks up casually. “I do.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“...What?” Cooper coughs.

“Oh, yeah,” Charlie says. “I helped Condi and Grizz find a guy after the whole sleep paralysis thing. This was, like, a quarter in, dude, there was no way they were gonna live like that for the rest of the year.”

“And it was legit?” Noah asks skeptically.

“I mean, it went away afterwards, so I think so,” Charlie shrugs. “It wasn’t super theatrical or anything, either, so I feel like he wasn’t just some whack job. He’s a student at UCLA, actually. Goes by Schlatt. I still have his contact info.”

“I’m not getting anywhere involved in this,” Josh says firmly. “I don’t want anything to do with it. Not my ghost. Count me out.”

“That’s fair,” Carson says. “I mean, none of you have to get involved in this shit. I don’t…  _ really  _ want to, but I mean, if this guy is legit…”

Because he does feel a little bad, deep down. Swagger sure didn’t seem like a malicious spirit. He seemed like a chill frat bro who had somehow ended up with his ghost tethered to a crusader helmet. And Travis did have a point. They had promised to take him with them, no matter how half heartedly he’d said it.

“I’ll go,” Travis says quickly.

“Count me out,” Cooper says.

“What?” Travis protests. “Oh, come on, Cooper, you don’t have to wear the helmet again.”

“Nuh uh,” Cooper says, throwing his hands up defensively. “No way you’re getting me back there.”

“Same here,” Noah says. “I don’t know how the fuck what happened, happened, but I don’t care to find out.”

“You guys are all babies,” Travis snorts.

“I’m inclined to agree with Travis here,” Charlie grins. “You guys chickening out?”

“Absolutely,” Josh says flatly.

“I’m not chickening out, man, I’m being smart,” Cooper says. “I don’t trust whatever’s going on there. I intend to stay the fuck away from it.”

“You guys can go poke the bear with a stick if you want,” Noah agrees. “But I know when things are bigger than me, and when I should stay the fuck out of them.”

“I sure don’t,” Charlie says cheerily. “I’m going to text Schlatt right now and see if he’s still doing his whole thing.”

He reads his text out slowly as he types it.

“Hey man, don’t know if you remember, but I was one of the guys who went to you for the ghost in the dorm room at CSULB. Some other friends of mine have a similar issue, are you still doing business?”

“Business,” Noah snorts as Charlie hits send. “Guy’s a genius. Comes in, waves some herbs around, then tells you you’re cleansed, I bet.”

“He didn’t bring any herbs last time,” Charlie counters. He then looks down at his phone in surprise as it dings. “Jesus, he already responded. ‘ _ I’m always doing business, Charlie. How much are you offering? _ ’”

“Offering?” Travis says slowly. “As in… money?”

There’s a collective college student groan across the dorm room.

“I have five dollars,” Carson says. “And a meal card. He want some free Panera?”

“A bread bowl sounds pretty good right now,” Josh says.

“No ghostbusting, no bread bowl, Josh,” Carson says firmly.

“I’ll just let him know we’re kinda tight on cash right now,” Charlie decides. “Grizz’s family is lowkey kinda rich, so it wasn’t an issue last time, so I kinda forgot about the whole money thing.”

He quickly taps out a text as Cooper rolls his neck back and sighs.

“If you  _ really  _ need it, I’m doing a deal later today,” he says begrudgingly. “I suppose I could donate some to the cause.”

They all turn as Charlie’s phone pings. He reads out loud.

“ _ No worries. I have plenty of alternative payment methods.” _

“Somehow, I don’t think he means he takes card,” Noah says.

“Ayo,” Cooper cuts in. “Who the fuck  _ is  _ this guy?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's josh and charlie! and a little glimpse at schlatt... he's coming soon, so don't get on my case, schlannies.  
> this is definitley a shorter chapter than last time, so i wanted to ask, do you guys wanted more frequent updates with shorter chapters or longer updates with less frequent updates? especially since i'm starting school next week, things might get a little wacky, so i just wanted to know ur opinion. i hope you liked this chapter, and as always, i'd love to hear your thoughts! also does anyone know how to make the first chapter notes not repeat to other chapters lmao they're just there and i would. like them not to be


	3. three. schlatt n' co

Schlatt, thankfully, doesn’t live on campus at UCLA. He’s an upperclassman, so he lives in an apartment smack in the middle of UCLA and CSULB. It’s still about a half an hour drive, though, with LA traffic. The only three of them that end up making the journey are Carson, Travis, and Charlie, and given that neither Carson nor Travis have their license (even though Travis insists he can still drive if he really wants to), Charlie drove. The drive was peaceful enough for a drive through LA, even with Charlie on the aux, which led to an eclectic mix of early 2000s hits, Disney songs, and the occasional weeb shit.

Schlatt’s apartment complex is nice, which makes sense, since he’s affluent enough to be going to UCLA. Charlie makes a fairly impressive parallel parking job right across the street from it, and the three of them head to the front of the building.

“He said to just tell the person at the front desk we’re here for Schlatt,” Charlie tells the two of them.

“Is this guy some kind of mob boss or something?” Carson snorts. “Is that his real name, by the way?  _ Schlatt _ ?”

“It’s probably a last name or something,” Charlie shrugs. “That’s all he ever had us call him last year. He was a little bit strange, but definitely no mob boss.”

A rush of cold air conditioning welcomes them as they step inside. The lobby is nicely furnished and modern, and there’s a young man lounging casually at the front desk. His name tag reads “Connor”. Carson glances to Charlie, who gestures to him in a “go on” sort of way. Carson walks up to the desk awkwardly.

“How can I help you?” Connor intones, not looking up from his phone.

“Uh, we’re here for Schlatt?” Carson replies.

Connor looks up and raises his eyebrows.

“Ah, some business with ol’ Schlatt n’ Co, huh?” he says with a knowing smile. “Godspeed, boys. That’s gonna be room 616, sixth floor, to your right. Elevator’s right down the hall.”

The three of them chorus a polite “thank you” because they’re Gen Z and appreciate workers, and Carson ends up- for some reason, as usual- leading them as they head back to the elevators. Carson presses the button for up and turns back to Charlie and Travis.

“What do you think he means by alternate payment methods?” he asks them curiously. “Because I’m not about to, yknow, I care about solving the whole ghost issue, but not enough to, like, suck some dick over it, feel me?”

Charlie laughs.

“I don’t think that’s what he means,” he assures him. He looks contemplative for a moment. “Well, I don’t think- huh. I mean, I  _ hope  _ that’s not what he means.”

“I’ll do it,” Travis says courageously.

Carson and Charlie lose it.

“Travis, no,” Carson wheezes. “It was a joke, and even if it wasn’t, you are the last person I would ever let take one for the team.”

The elevator dings and opens. They step inside and Carson presses the button for floor 6 as Travis grins at his comment.

“It’s my chance to be helpful,” he tells Carson as the doors close.

“You are helpful,” Carson says firmly. “You were the only one who told us to stop fucking with the ouija board and the helmet, and we didn’t listen.”

“Plus, you’re man enough to be here,” Charlie points out. “Cooper, Noah, n’ Josh all chickened out.”

“Aw, jeez,” Travis says, smiling and tugging his sweatshirt hood closed a little more. “You flatter me.”

“Bottom line, no one is sucking anyone’s dick, but especially not Travis,” Carson says firmly.

“I think that’s a good rule going in,” Charlie agrees. “That’s too far. But if he wants a kidney or something? Eh, I got two for a reason.”

The elevator door opens with a ding as they reach the sixth floor. Travis immediately sets off with a purpose.

“He said right, Travis,” Carson says.

Travis turns around and heads in the right direction without losing momentum.

“Kinda thought that was right, not gonna lie,” he says casually. “Alright! Ghostbusting time!”

Room 616 is fairly far down in the hall, and when they reach it, Charlie knocks apprehensively on the door. They stand in wait for a minute, Carson cracking his knuckles absently. Just as Charlie goes to reach for his phone, the door swings open and a man Carson assumes is Schlatt stands in the doorway.

“Hey, boys,” he says casually. “Charlie, always good to see a returning customer. Come on in.”

As the three of them follow him inside, Carson is struck by how unlike Schlatt is to the way he’d imagined him. He guesses the image of the mob boss had really stuck in his head, which is why he’s surprised by how normal he looks. He’s long and gangly, about as tall as Carson, and has a boyish look about him that contrasts his dark, serious eyes. His brown hair is slightly messy under his Yankees cap, not a usual sight in LA, and he has a slightly mousy moustache that he somehow manages to pull off. Nothing about his vintage looking graphic crewneck screams that he offers ghost hunting services, but Carson guesses he shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

“And for you two,” Schlatt continues, as they enter a well decorated and surprisingly homey living room, “They call me Schlatt.”

“Carson,” he returns.

“I’m Travis,” Travis adds.

“Nice to meet you boys,” Schlatt says politely, holding out his hand for Carson to shake.

Carson inwardly cringes. He hates shaking hands. He’s got sweaty palms. He shakes Schlatt’s hand anyway, taken aback by how unnecessarily firm his handshake is, despite his lanky frame. He shakes Travis’s hand, then turns to wave nonchalantly at the attached kitchen, where another tall man is humming quietly to himself as he chops something on a cutting board.

“That’s Ted, my roommate,” Schlatt explains. “Don’t mind him.”

Ted, who has round glasses and a handsome face, waves at them casually with the hand he’s holding the knife with.

“He-ey,” he calls with a sideways smile. “Just performing my duties as housewife, don’t worry about it.”

Schlatt chuckles.

“Sure, Ted,” he says dryly. “We can pretend you’re making something edible if you want.”

Ted smirks back at him as he crosses to the stove to scrape whatever he was cutting- scallions, maybe, something green and leafy- into the large pot bubbling there. Carson can’t see what it is exactly, but there’s a pleasant, herbal smell filling the whole apartment from it.

“Anyway,” Schlatt says, waving a hand dismissively in Ted’s direction. “Let’s talk business. Please, sit down.”

He takes the leather armchair, leaving the three of them to sit on the comfortabley overstuffed couch.

“So tell me,” he says, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back casually with his hands behind his head. “What exactly happened? Charlie and I didn’t exactly discuss details.”

“I wasn’t there,” Charlie explains. “Carson and Travis were, though, so they can explain.”

And with that, Carson and Travis launch into the story for the second time that week. Well, mostly Carson, seems Travis seems a little put off for some reason. He’s not too concerned, though, since Travis sometimes just kinda zones out in social situations, so it’s not terribley out of character. So Carson tells him about Josh’s experiences, the whole ouija board experience, then Cooper getting possessed and everything that Swagger had claimed. Schlatt doesn’t interject at all, just listens with a pensive expression, occasionally nodding to himself like he’s figured something out.

When Carson finishes, he folds his hands awkwardly in his lap, waiting for the verdict. Schlatt removes his hands from behind his head and leans forward a bit, scratching his chin absently.

“I’ll tell you what- this is not a super unusual case,” he tells them. “We see a lot of instances of people’s spirits latching onto objects as they pass on. The classic example is the horror movie doll, of course, but it can really be anything, as long as it holds some kind of emotional significance to them and is present when they die. Now, I don’t know why this Swagger guy had an emotional connection to a helmet- maybe he worked at Medieval Times or somethin’, I don’t fuckin’ know- but that seems to be exactly what happened. I also don’t know how it ended up in storage, but y’know. Doesn’t really matter.”

“So do you know how to, uh…” Charlie says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fix it?”

Schlatt smiles a little.

“Well, it depends on your definition of  _ fix,  _ my friend,” Schlatt explains. “I can easily expel his spirit from the helmet, if that’s what you mean. That’s just a simple exorcism.”

“What do you mean by expel?” Travis asks cautiously.

“Essentially, I purge the area of the spirit,” Schlatt says. “Sometimes this allows them to pass on to the afterlife, but most of the time it doesn’t work like that. You see, ghosts exist because the person has some unfulfillment in life. That purpose to stay behind doesn’t just go away if I sprinkle some salt and say some Latin. In Swagger’s case, his spirit will probably just aimlessly float around, conscious but unable to cause any harm. It’ll certainly make your basement safe, but it won’t do Swagger any good.”

“We want to help him,” Travis says firmly.

Schlatt smirks a little.

“Well, now that’s a little more complicated,” he says. “See, Travis, in order to help him, we’d have to figure out exactly why his soul is hanging around. He seems to be fairly young, so I’m gonna guess he’s got a lot of unfulfilled ambitions, maybe some people he wants to say goodbye to. The only way to really be sure is to ask him.”

“How?” Carson ventures.

Schlatt shrugs.

“Well, like you did before,” he says. “Have someone put the helmet on.”  
Carson frowns.

“From what Cooper says, that sounds like hell,” he says doubtfully.

“Of course it was,” Schlatt says casually. “Cooper’s nowhere close to being sensitive to spirits, from what I can tell. Plus, he was unwilling, so Swagger had to force himself into a mind that wasn’t equipped to handle spiritual activity in the first place. That’s not gonna be pleasant. If we want to commune with him longer and more lucidly, someone would have to wear the helmet who’s already naturally inclined to the supernatural.”

“Like you?” Charlie asks.

Schlatt chuckles.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he says quickly. “I’m a different caliber, entirely. If I wore the helmet, it’d be more harmful to Swagger than it would be to me. But there’s a balance, a perfect vessel. And that would probably be Travis.”

Everyone’s gaze turns to Travis, who sits up in surprise.

“What the nuts?” he says, glancing over at Carson nervously. “Why me?”

“From what Carson told me about how easily you sensed the energy around the helmet, as well as immediately being able to tell that Cooper was possessed instantly, I can assume you’re on some level psychic,” Schlatt explains casually. “What nowadays people often call a medium. For whatever reason, some humans are just born with a more natural link to the dead than others. When you’ve been in the business for as long as I have, you can gage those people pretty easily.”

“Huh,” Travis says, slouching back down into the couch cushions. “That’s crazy.”

“Indeed it is, Travis,” Schlatt says, voice edging with amusement.

“So that’s what you are, then?” Travis asks.

Schlatt sits back in his chair a little, taking off his hat and ruffling his hair a little before replacing it.

“You could say that,” he says noncommittally. “It’s certainly part of the package.”

Ted, who Carson had all but forgotten was there, chuckles from the kitchen. Schlatt glances over at him like they’d just shared an inside joke, then turns back to the three of them on the couch.

“So basically,” he says, leaning forward again and steepling his fingers. “I can give you two options. I can just perform a routine exorcism, and Swagger’ll be out of your hair. That’ll be a flat price. I know you guys are college students and don’t have a whole lot of money, so I’m willing to be flexible and give you guys some time.”

“Okay,” Carson says cautiously. “Or?”

“Or,” Schlatt continues, “I help you understand why Swagger can’t pass on, and allow him to leave naturally one he’s fulfilled.”

“That one,” Travis says quickly.

Carson nods in agreement.

“Is that, uh, gonna cost more?” Charlie asks, cringing a little.

“Not in dollars, no,” Schlatt says, and there’s a strange glint in his eye. “Actually, that’s not gonna cost you anything, dollars wise. Instead, I merely ask for somewhat of a… partnership.”

Carson doesn’t know much about business, but that sounds shady as hell. Travis seems to catch this vibe as well, because he asks suspiciously,

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Schlatt narrows his eyes a little.

“What it’s supposed to mean, Travis, is that I’m the first person anyone in LA who knows anything about the supernatural comes to when they have an issue,” he says slowly. “It might be hard to believe, but I’m kind of swamped with work right now. Sure, I have Ted, but we’re both students, too. It can get a little overwhelming at times. Essentially, all I’m asking for is a hand here and there. I’ll commit to helping this Swagger character to the end, however long it takes, as long as you pay me back by helping out with some cases.”

“Is there a contract or something that we have to sign?” Charlie asks suspiciously.

Schlatt holds his hands up to indicate transparency.

“Not at all,” he assures him. “Purely an honor thing. I’m doing you a favor, right? And I don’t know you boys all too well, but I’d like to think I could trust you to repay it, no?”

“Can we talk about this for a minute?” Travis blurts.

Schlatt glances at Travis, and for a moment Carson is worried that he’s angry at him for asking. But he simply shrugs.

“Yeah, of course,” he says, getting to his feet. “Take all the time you need. I’ll just be in the kitchen.”

He crosses to the kitchen and engages in casual conversation with Ted, who’s stirring whatever’s in the huge pot on the stove. Travis leans in a little to whisper conspiratorially to Charlie and Carson.

“I don’t like this guy,” he hisses. “He’s giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

“I dunno, he’s more normal than I thought he would be,” Carson says. “Are you sure this isn’t, like, the same feeling you got about the helmet? Maybe you’re just sensing his, like, supernatural vibe.”

“I guess I could be,” Travis frowns.

“I can’t believe you’re a fucking medium, dude,” Charlie grins.

Travis smiles a little in wonder.

“That is pretty cool,” he admits, expression then dropping again. “I still don’t like this, but I feel like the second option is the only one that actually helps Swagger.”

“And it’s less money,” Carson points out.

“This is basically an internship,” Charlie says casually. “Just in ghost hunting.”

“I guess so,” Travis says, giggling a little.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this all for a fucking knight helmet,” Carson sighs. He then turns and raises his voice a little. “Uh, Schlatt? We’re all good.”

“Great,” Schlatt says, clasping his hands together and heading back into the living room. “So, what’s the verdict, boys?”

“We’ll do the, uh, partnership thing,” Charlie says.

Schlatt grins, a smile with a lot of teeth but that doesn’t quite reach the eyes.

“Sounds wonderful,” he says. “It’ll be good to have some help here and there.”

“How long is this going to last, uh, Mr. Schlatt?” Travis asks.

“However long it takes to fix the whole Swagger situation,” Schlatt replies. “As soon as Swagger has passed on, you guys will be free to go. Sound good?”

There’s a unanimous nod amongst the three of them.

“Great,” Schlatt says, and that gleam in his dark eyes is back. “Pleasure doing business with you boys.”

He extends his hand to Charlie, who shakes it. Then to Carson, who takes it, and is surprised by how strangely hot his hand is. Maybe he was helping Ted with the stove? In any case, it’s an unpleasant handshake for Carson, as most are, but Schlatt doesn’t seem to notice. He shakes Travis’s last, who seems a little apprehensive, and pulls away almost immediately. Schlatt looks a little taken aback, but he doesn’t say anything.

“When should we go back to the basement?” Carson asks.

Schlatt hums thoughtfully, turning his head toward the kitchen.

“Ted, are we doing anything tomorrow?” he calls.

“I’m not your secretary, Schlatt,” Ted calls back immediately. “But no, not after noon.”

“That good with you?” Schlatt asks them.

The three of them exchange glances, and upon no one objecting, Carson says,

“Yeah, I think that’s good.”

“Great,” Schlatt says. “It’s a Sunday, so no one should be in the building. Let’s say eight. You boys should probably head out if you want to beat rush hour.”

The indication that they were being kicked out was clear.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Charlie agrees. “Thanks for this, man.”

“Of course,” Schlatt returns with an easy grin.

As they head back to the car, Connor giving them a thumbs up as they leave, Carson somehow has the sinking suspicion that they’d gotten the worse end of the deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand here's the last two of the main crew :) i said this in the tags already but i've never been to LA much less do i know anything about the colleges they attend so just. suspend ur belief and forget everything you know okay.
> 
> i think im gonna do like weekly updates around thurs/fri, but we'll see how that goes now that school's started alkhgahdlkg uhhhh yeah please yell at me in the comments i love hearing you guys' input so much! see you next week :)


	4. four. not so pimp chimpin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: description of a car wreck, nothing graphic
> 
> also let me know if any of you need any specific tws!! i want everyone to be safe and comfey reading this fic :)

“I can’t believe you roped me into this.”

Cooper is sitting forward with his arms resting on the steering wheel, positively moping under his bucket hat.

“Cooper!” Travis gripes from the seat behind him, lifting his leg up to kick the back of his chair with the sole of his shoe. “I did not! You said not to go and I said I was going and then you said you were coming too!”

“Well, yeah, I wasn’t about to let you go alone,” Cooper shoots back.

Carson throws his hands up incredulously in the passenger seat.

“Uh, hello?” he interjects.

“Yeah, what are we, chopped liver?” Charlie protests from the seat next to Travis.

“C’mon, you knew what I meant,” Cooper says, rolling his eyes. “Someone, uh… competent.”

“Alright, fuck you,” Carson snorts.

“I don’t even have time to complain because Schlatt is calling,” Charlie says, picking up the phone and putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

“Turn around.”

Carson turns his head and almost jumps as he sees a tall silhouette that must be Schlatt standing across the parking lot from them, casually leaning against a lamppost.

“Jesus Christ,” Cooper breathes.

“How- how long have you been there, man?” Charlie asks.

“Not long,” Schlatt says casually. “Who’s the fourth?”

“Huh?” Charlie looks up at them questioningly. “Oh, you mean Cooper. We mentioned him, he was-”

“Right, no, I remember,” Schlatt interjects. “He knows he doesn’t have to be here, right?”

“He’s here for Travis,” Charlie explains. “They’re kind of a package deal.”

“Not true,” Travis says petulantly, kicking the back of Cooper’s seat again.

“Cut it out!” Cooper snaps. “And no, I’m here for all of you dweebs. Travis just happens to be the one most likely to do something stupid.”

“Alright,” Schlatt says evenly. “The more the merrier, I suppose. Meet me at the entrance.”

The four of them get out of Cooper’s Toyota like a carpool of kids getting dropped off at soccer practice, Carson grabbing his flashlight as he does. They cross the darkened parking lot to Schlatt, where it becomes clear that his method of transportation was not just teleporting out of thin air as he had appeared to, but rather Ted, who’s sitting in the driver’s seat of the almost vintage looking car parked next to Schlatt.

“Hey,” Carson greets them. “Uh, Cooper, this is Schlatt and Ted. Schlatt and Ted, Cooper.”

Cooper sizes the two of them up reproachfully.

“Hey,” he says simply.

Schlatt and Ted exchange a look.

“Pleasure to meet you, Cooper,” Schlatt says coolly, holding out a hand to shake.

Cooper looks a little weirded out, but shakes it anyway. The duration of the shake leads Carson to assume they’re both trying to assert their dominance by having a firmer grip. By the way he pulls away irritably, he can also assume that Cooper lost.

“This is pretty routine and you have a lot of extra help,” Ted comments. “You don’t need me to come in, do you?”

Schlatt rolls his head back a little.

“No, I suppose not, Ted,” he says. “Stay in the car and watch Avatar if you fuckin’ want.”

“Hell yeah,” Ted says, kicking his ridiculously long legs up onto the dashboard.

Before Carson had met Schlatt and Ted, he had stood solidly taller than most everyone he interacted with on a daily basis. The two of them beating him at that was not something that he thought he had enough testosterone to be annoyed by, and yet he was.

“Pass me the salt,” Schlatt says, holding out a hand.

Ted pulls out a thing of kosher salt from the passenger seat and tosses it to Schlatt, who almost fumbles it due to the speed of the throw.

“Carefully,” he says through gritted teeth.

Ted just laughs.

“You need anything else?” he asks him.

“Line of communication’s pretty simple, I don’t think so,” Schlatt replies. “Alright, have fun with your fuckin’ anime.”

“It’s just not even anime,” Ted says as he rolls up the window.

“It looks like anime,” Schlatt shoots back before the window closes. “So I don’t care.”

Something about the way Schlatt pronounces his As, like in the word anime, makes Carson realize he’s got somewhat of an accent- New York, he thinks, which explains the Yankees cap. As they head into the building, Carson scanning Josh’s ID to let them in, he decides to use that to make conversation.

“So where’re you from, Schlatt?” he asks casually as they head in.

“Ah, kind of all over,” he answers vaguely, falling into step next to Carson as he leads them to the stairs down to the basement. “You?”

“Indiana,” he replies.

Schlatt laughs at this, a laugh more high-pitched than his speaking voice, which immediately prompts Charlie and Cooper to start laughing at Carson as well, even though they were already well aware of his unfortunate Midwest background.

“Okay, Charlie is from fucking  _ Vermont _ ,” Carson objects. “So I don’t know why  _ he’s  _ laughing.”

“Hey, if you need maple syrup, I’m your guy,” Charlie grins, sticking his hands in his jean pockets. “It’s why I’m so  _ sweet _ .”

“No, you’re sweet because you’re practically Canadian, man,” Cooper snorts.

“I’m sorry, Carson,” Schlatt says, who’s finished laughing. “You being from Indiana just makes so much sense.”

“Okay, now that hurts,” Carson says with mock offense, clicking his flashlight on as they descend into the dark stairwell. “Fuck the Midwest, dude. I got outta there as soon as possible.”

The uneasy feeling of impending doom was much less this time going down, which was strange, because Carson now knew there actually _was_ a ghost in the basement. He reasons that it’s probably because he no longer has the fear of the unknown- that, and Schlatt is there. Having someone there who’s well versed in ghosts significantly decreases his stress, since he has no clue what the fuck he’s doing. He doesn’t even fully understand the concept of ghosts- can they move shit? Are they dangerous? What would’ve happened if they didn’t close the board after Swagger starting doing the whole figure eight thing? He has so many questions that he doesn’t quite know where to start, so he just doesn’t.

They reach the end of the stairwell and Schlatt takes the initiative to open the door, stepping inside and activating the automatic lights. The rest of them file in behind him.

“Carson, go get the helmet,” Schlatt says, his words not demanding but definitely having authority behind them. “And Charlie, take the salt and make a wide circle around us.”

“Got it,” Carson says, heading back to where he’d stowed the helmet after last time.

“Oh, I remember this from last time,” Charlie says.

“Yeah, this is a little less necessary than that one,” Schlatt says. “That was a bit of a nasty one. This is just mostly routine. I don’t think Swagger could escape if he wanted to, but it’s always good to be cautious.”

Speaking of Swagger, Carson has managed to unearth the box with the helmet in it from the bottom of the pile. He opens the box and pulls it out from the bed of tissue paper, the metal freezing cold to the touch.

“Carson, come in with it before Charlie closes it,” Schlatt says. “Or else it’ll trap Swagger outside the circle, which is the exact opposite of what we’re trying to do here.”

Charlie pauses shaking the salt onto the ground in a thin circle, and Carson quickly steps inside, helmet under his arm. Charlie then closes the circle, encasing the five of them within a wide diameter. 

“Alright, Travis,” Carson says, taking the helmet out from under his arm and holding it out. “You ready?”

“Y’know, I still don’t buy this Travis being psychic bullshit,” Cooper cuts in, frowning. “Travis once ate part of a random carcass we found outside the woods just because I told him not to. I just find it hard to believe he has some sort of sixth sense.”

“I’m sorry, Travis what?” Charlie asks, concerned.

“Having supernatural sense has nothing to do with common sense, Cooper,” Schlatt says dryly. “Travis was just born being able to see clearer into the other side. He’s not a true psychic, even, from what I can tell. It’s a spectrum. He’s just much farther on the psychic side than the rest of you.”

“See, but how can you tell that?” Cooper asks suspiciously.

“I think you’re just jealous,” Travis says, with a shit-eating grin.

“Fuck you,” Cooper says irritably. “I’m the furthest thing from jealous. If someone told me ‘hey, you’re the only one who can get fuckin’ possessed, put on the helmet’, I would not be  _ excited  _ about it.”

“To answer your question, Cooper,” Schlatt says diplomatically. “It’s just something I can naturally pick up on, especially after years in the field. If you don’t want to believe me, that’s fine, but I believe that Travis’s experience with possession will be much easier than yours.”

“It better be,” Cooper grumbles. “Because if anything happens to Travis, I’m gonna beat the shit out of you.”

“Noted,” Schlatt grins, not appearing all too phased by his threat. He gestures to the helmet. “Travis, you ready?”

“I was born ready,” Travis giggles, taking the helmet from Carson. “Owie, it’s cold.”

He examines the helmet for a second, looking a bit apprehensive, but then decisively tugging it on over his wildly curly hair. The change in body language is so immediate and startling that Carson finds himself taking a step back, making it so that the four of them are on the opposite side of the circle from Travis.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Swagger’s voice says cheerfully. With Cooper, you could still tell it was Cooper’s vocal chords underneath- it sounded strange, sure, but it was almost as if Cooper was doing an impression of someone, or had a voice filter on. With Travis, it’s another voice entirely, especially startling by the fact that Swagger’s voice is about an octave lower than Travis’s. “Aw, this body’s a fuckton better! Is this the short one?”

There’s a moment before any of them speak.

“Um, yeah, that’s Travis,” Carson says, still taken aback by the weirdness of it all.

“Travis,” Swagger echoes. “I’m likin’ Travis! You, uh, you I know, glasses dude. What’s your name? Shit, this is like high school, dude. Let’s all go around and say our names and something we did over the summer. For real though, who the fuck are you guys? I only remember glasses dude.”

“Uh, I’m Carson,” Carson says, the previously referenced glasses dude.

“I’m Charlie,” Charlie puts in, still polite, even while addressing a ghost. “I’m, uh, a friend.”

“And we’re well acquainted,” Cooper says, crossing his arms.

“Oh, shit!” Swagger crows. “Is that my man Cooper? Hey, dude! Sorry about all that bullshit last time. I had to do it, ya see. Otherwise it was another century in the box.”

“You’ve been down here for a century?” Schlatt asks skeptically.

“Oh, naw, dude,” Swagger says quickly. “Just, uh, well, I don’t know, but you guys seem like you’re from my times. I doubt it’s been a century. Hey, who’re you, again?”

“They call me Schlatt,” he says coolly. “I’m… somewhat of a supernatural investigator, I suppose. The boys hired me to deal with you.”

“Aw, you did this all for me?” Swagger says, placing his hands over his- well, Travis’s- heart. “Guys, you shouldn’t have.”

“I have some questions for you, if you don’t mind,” Schlatt says.

“Shoot, man,” Swagger says casually.

“What’s your name?” Schlatt asks.

“Swagger,” Swagger replies breezily.

Schlatt raises an eyebrow.

“Is that your government name?” he asks dryly.

“Is Schlatt yours?” Swagger fires back.

“Last name, yes,” Schlatt says. “Look, I’m trying to help you. Now, what’s your name?”

Swagger sighs, the noise echoing oddly in the helmet.

“Eric Matthews,” he says defeatedly. “But no one calls me that except, like, my fuckin’ mom.”

“You live in LA, Eric?” Schlatt asks casually.

“ _ Swagger,  _ man,” Swagger groans. “And no. I live in Melbourne.”

“Australia?” Carson asks in surprise. “But you’re-”

“American, oh yeah,” Swagger says quickly. “Don’t get it twisted. I’m not a fuckin’ Australian. I moved there when I was, what, like twenty-two?”

“Why is that?” Schlatt asks.

“I studied abroad there, junior year of college,” Swagger explains. “Met my best friends. We all moved in together after I graduated. I got a job there and, I dunno man, I guess it’s just where I live now. The spiders still fuckin’ get me, but everything else is fine.”

“If you live in Australia, why are you here?” Charlie asks curiously.

“Huh,” Swagger says. “That’s a good question. Didn’t really know I was in LA, to be honest. Just the fuckin’ basement. Only thing I can remember for a good while is this basement. It’s all fuzzy, though. I can move shit, barely. Only person that ever comes down here is that one guy who always looks like he’s about to pee his pants.”

“Josh,” Carson, Cooper, and Charlie all chorus immediately.

“Ah, you know him,” Swagger says. “I must admit, I fucked with him a little bit. It was the only entertainment I got. Didn’t even really think about what I was doing, or much of anything, really, until I possessed Cooper.”

“What’s the most recent memory you have of, uh, before you were a helmet?” Schlatt asks delicately.

Swagger crosses Travis’s arms, staying silent for a moment.

“I’m not sure,” he says. “Uh, I remember our house. I remember… Fitz. I remember getting high with Fitz. Um, and an… an airport! Fuck! Of course! I’m on vacation!”

He taps the side of his helmet, mimicking a facepalm.

“Right! Me and the boys went to LA!” he realizes.

“And what did you do?” Schlatt asks.

“It’s still not super clear,” Swagger admits. “I remember we definitely had an AirBnB. I remember arguing so much about the AirBnB, dude. And we trashed that shit, too. Oh, man, we’re the worst. And, uh… oh. Oh, shit.”

His voice quivered a little on the last sentence, and he brought a hand up to rub the back of Travis’s neck.

“That’s not good,” he says, voice more subdued than usual. “Yeah, no, I remember. We were, um, on the, on the highway…”

His voice trails off as he sits down defeatedly, like something heavy weighed down on him suddenly. Cooper immediately takes an instinctual step forward.

“What are you doing-”

“Cooper, can you shut the fuck up?” Schlatt hisses under his breath.

Cooper does, looking a little stunned, and Schlatt crosses over to Swagger, who’s sitting on his knees and has his head angled down in a way that leads Carson to believe he’s staring at Travis’s hands in his lap. Schlatt squats down to his level, resting his arms on his knees and looking over at where Swagger’s face would be with a surprisingly gentle sort of understanding.

“Swagger,” he says quietly.

“Shit, man,” Swagger breathes. “I mean… I knew, uh, I knew I was, y’know, I knew I kicked the bucket and all…”

“Do you remember it?” Schlatt asks cautiously.

Swagger nods.

“Well,” he amends. “Not… it. But I remember driving- I wasn’t driving, Fitz was, Fitz was driving, Fitz always drove, and it was late, on the, on the highway, and I said some dumb shit to rile up Mason, and Mason punched me in the arm, and, and-” he pauses to laugh, the sound coming off a little frantic with the pace of his speech- “and that fuckwit is so strong for no reason, and Fitz, y’know, he’s doing a whole bit like we’re his fuckin’, his kids, so he turns around to tell us to knock it off and, and I don’t know what happened, it shouldn’t have been long enough for it to matter, but, but…”

His voice breaks, and Schlatt simply raises an arm to rub his back comfortingly.

“I know it’s hard,” he says quietly. “But do you remember anything else?”

Swagger shakes his head.

“Not really,” he says, voice higher than usual. “I think it was. I think it was a truck. I don’t know. I remember a really fuckin’ loud explosion, and then just kinda…”

He waves his hand vaguely.

“Did you have this helmet with you?” Schlatt asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Swagger says. “I took it around a lot. It’s… I dunno how to explain it, it’s just a dumb, uh, a dumb thing. I work for a video game developing company, like I’m on the main team, and it was like a publicity sort of thing- like there would be, like, pictures of me coding n’ shit with the helmet on for Twitter n’ stuff. It’s dumb, I dunno, but it sort of became my thing, like the whole Swagger thing. It was just in my bag, I think.”

Schlatt nods slowly.

“That’s why your spirit latched onto it,” he says. “You connect with it. It’s sort of a part of you, even if it’s just for the persona.”

“Yeah,” Swagger says. “I guess that makes sense. Does… does everyone who, uh, does everyone become a ghost?”

“Not at all,” Schlatt says. “It normally happens when someone dies tragically, or has some big reason that they feel unfulfilled in life, some loose end they want to tie up before passing on.”

“Well… yeah, I have some loose ends,” Swagger says slowly. “A fuckin’ lot of em, actually! I’m twenty fucking four! I had a promising career, man! I was… I was talkin’ to this girl, and me and the boys, we were, oh  _ fuck _ , is, was everyone else okay?”

“I don’t know,” Schlatt says quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“I think I found something,” Charlie says, who Carson realizes has been on his phone. “Uh, is your Twitter @SwaggerSouls?”

Swagger’s head snaps up.

“Yeah,” he says, scrambling to his feet and crossing to Charlie quickly. “Can I, can I see that?”

“Of course,” Charlie says, handing him his phone.

Swagger takes it and stares at the screen.

“I can’t believe my last fuckin’ tweet was essentially fuckin’ nonsense,” Swagger snorts. “Jesus, there are so many replies.”

He taps on the tweet, and immediately his whole demeanor changes, his shoulders dropping.

“Shit,” he breathes, laughing in shock. “They’re… they’re all about me, uh, they’re all the fuckin’, dove emojis n’ shit, that shit’s corny as hell, man, they know I’d hate that.”

They wait in respectful silence as Swagger scrolls through replies, scrolling getting continually faster like he’s looking for something in specific.

“None of my friends replied,” he says quietly. “None of… none of the friends that were in the car.”

“Swagger,” Schlatt says softly, who’s since stood up. “I think I know why.”

“No, no, I’m not gonna jump- I’m not gonna just go there,” Swagger says quickly. “I know it’s- I know it’s possible, but-”

Schlatt glances down at his phone, which is in his hand, and slowly reads from the screen.

“This article is from a couple weeks ago, from LA Weekly,” he says. “‘Freak truck mechanical issue results in the death of six Australian tourists’.”

“What?” Swagger breathes.

Schlatt looks up pityingly.

“It says your name here,” he says. “Eric Matthews, 24.”

Swagger says nothing, just staring blankly.

“Are these your friends?” Schlatt asks gingerly. “Cameron McKay, 23. Mason Bradford, 22. Tobi Lyons-”

“Schlatt, stop,” Carson interjects.

Schlatt looks up.

“Huh?”

Carson raises his eyebrows and jerks a thumb at Swagger, who still hasn’t spoken and is staring down at the ground. Now that Schlatt is silent, they can easily hear the quiet but easily recognizable sound of Swagger crying.

“Fuck, dude,” he whispers, voice shaking. “I’m dead. They’re all dead. What the  _ fuck _ .”

Surprisingly, for all his bitterness toward Swagger, Cooper is the one to step forward and place a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. Maybe there was some part of him that still saw it as Travis being in distress, or he was just a more empathetic person than Carson gave him credit for.

“I’m sorry, man,” Cooper says simply.

There’s only a muffled sob in response, a wild, heartbroken sound that Swagger’s trying and failing to stifle. Charlie joins Cooper on the other side of Swagger, also putting a hand on his back comfortingly, leaving Carson and Schlatt, evidently the most emotionally constipated of the group, to stand awkwardly as they listen to Swagger try and control his breathing.

“Sorry, boys,” he chuckles weakly, sniffing. “I mean, we barely, uh, barely know each other, huh? You normally build up to this typa shit.”

“This isn’t exactly a normal situation,” Charlie points out, smiling a little. “It’s all right, dude.”

“I can’t even wipe my fuckin’ face,” Swagger sighs. “Or Travis’s, I guess. Man, I like possessing Travis a lot more than Cooper. No offense, man.”

“None taken,” Cooper says dryly.

“I think you and Travis would get along well,” Charlie says. “If you could, like, talk face to face.”

“I could see that,” Cooper grins.

“Yeah?” Swagger says, and his voice is a little clearer. “I think I’d like the guy. He smoke?”

“Oh, so much,” Carson snorts.

“Then I’d like the guy,” Swagger says decisively. “Jeez, man. A fuckin’ car accident, dude. I always pictured me, eh, I dunno, gettin’ hooked on ketamine or somethin’ and going out with a bang. Or, I guess I did. Very literally.”

“There’s some good news,” Schlatt says, turning his phone off and placing his hands in his sweatshirt pocket.

“Please, dude,” Swagger says.

“Your friends are most likely ghosts, too,” Schlatt says. “And it’s near impossible for ghosts to reside anywhere outside of about a hundred mile radius, unless they’re attached to an object like you and moved. So, your friends are most definitely in LA. And as an extremely reputable paranormal investigator, if I may toot my own horn, I have enough resources that I bet I can get you guys back together.”

“Really?” Swagger says eagerly.

Schlatt nods.

“Not a lot of Australian ghosts in LA, dude,” he says.

“Well, technically only Mason is Australian,” Swagger says. “Fitz, Tobi, and Jay are all fuckin’ Kiwis, dude, which is the word person from New Zealand, for some reason, which is just fuckin’ stupid. And Matt’s American, like me.”

“Trust me, no American knows the difference between an Australian and a Kiwi,” Schlatt snorts. “Still should be relatively easy. And luckily, you’re mobile, so we can take you wherever. The others might not be as easy to move, but I have ways. I can make sure you can all see each other again.”

“That’s all I want,” Swagger says. “It sucks about everything else in my life, but there’s nothing I can really do about that, I reckon. But if I could just see the boys one last time, I’d feel a little better.”

“And that’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Schlatt says. “If we can reunite you all, hopefully that’s satisfactory enough to let you move on.”

“It would be,” Swagger assures him. “For me, at least.”

“Are you good if we take off the helmet now?” Schlatt says. “Travis is psychic, but it’s his first time being possessed, and it could still be draining to have it on for this long.”

“Yeah, of course,” Swagger says. “But you’ll take me with you guys, right?”

“Yes,” Carson says firmly. “For real this time.”

“Alright,” Swagger says. “Thank you, dude. Thank you all so much for doing this.”

“Of course,” Charlie says.

“Even if you gave me the worst headache of my life, I’m still a decent fuckin’ person,” Cooper grins. “So we’re gonna help you out, dude.”

“Thank you,” Swagger repeats. “Alright, here I go. Hasta la vista, boys.”

He reaches up and takes the helmet off, revealing Travis’s face, which is blotchy and covered in tears.

“What the what?” Travis says, his voice back to normal. “Why am I wet?”

“That’s just the worst fucking way you could’ve worded it, Travis,” Cooper groans, leaning forward and wiping off tears with his sleeve like a mom. “But it’s good to have you back.”

“Was Swagger crying?” Travis asks, puzzled, rubbing his eyes. “Is he okay?”

“No, he’s dead,” Carson deadpans.

“Well,  _ yeah _ , Carson,” Travis giggles. “I mean, like, emotionally.”

“I mean… he’s dead,” Carson repeats, grinning as Travis rolls his eyes.

“We found out him and all of his friends died in a car crash,” Schlatt explains. “He took it a little badly, but who wouldn’t?”

“Aw, man,” Travis frowns. “That’s so sad. So what are we gonna do?”

“Look for his friends’ ghosts and reunite them,” Charlie explains.

“Oh my gosh,” Travis gasps. “That’s so cool. Like a little ghost party.”

“Sure,” Schlatt says, irritation creeping into his voice a little. Carson notices he does that a lot with Travis. “Cooper, break the salt circle, would you?”

Cooper kicks some of the salt out of the way, breaking the circle.

“Should we clean this up?” he asks.

“I don’t think anyone really goes down here except Josh,” Carson says. “It’s probably fine.”

“I can take the helmet if you want,” Schlatt says, holding out a hand.

“We can keep it,” Travis says, hugging it to his chest protectively.

“Don’t you live in a frat house?” Schlatt asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No, it’s a suite,” Carson explains. “With the three of us and Noah. But it’s essentially a mini frat house. It’s probably better if you keep it.”

Schlatt’s hand is still extended, and Travis stares at it.

“Travis, give him the helmet,” Cooper sighs. “Can you imagine if, like, Logan found it at a party or some shit? He’d make it a DIY hotbox. It’s for the better, dude.”

Begrudgingly, Travis hands it over. There’s a tense moment where the two of them make eye contact as Schlatt takes it from him. Travis is more outwardly pissed, dark brows knit together irritably, but Carson can see a bit of malice in the way Schlatt narrows his eyes ever so slightly as well. It’s a strange moment, and it passes fast, but it still leaves a bad taste in his mouth, since Travis hardly ever seriously dislikes anyone, and hardly anyone ever seriously dislikes Travis.

“I’ll keep it safe,” Schlatt says breezily.

He crosses the circle and exits it by way of the hole Cooper’s kicked in it, which strikes Carson as a little strange, considering it’s the opposite end from the stairwell, but maybe it has something to do with preserving the sanctity of the circle or some shit. The rest of them follow Schlatt out, Travis still scrubbing drying tears from his face and scowling at Schlatt.

“I’ll keep you boys updated on any ghost cases I get from now on,” Schlatt says, opening the door to the stairwell and propping it open for them. “And I’ll probably ask for a hand or two on any of the cases, even if it’s not possibly related to the whole Swagger situation; yknow, just to fulfill the agreement. You don’t all have to come all the time. Especially you, Cooper.”

Cooper throws his hands up in offense.

“The fuck did I do?” he demands.

“No, no, no,” Schlatt says quickly, chuckling a little. “Not that I don’t value your company. It’s just that you’re not a part of the agreement, so you don’t have to be there if you don’t want to. It’s like working a job and not getting paid for it.”

“Nah, it’s fine,” Cooper shrugs. “I’m a part of the group, I want the same thing, and someone has to keep the boys in line, anyway. I just was being a dick the day they went to see you, that’s all. I’m all in.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Schlatt says.

They exit the building, and Schlatt immediately crosses to Ted’s car and knocks rapidly on the window. Ted rolls down the window, looking irritated.

“The fuck is your problem?” he snaps.

“Hey,” Schlatt greets him. “They master the four elements yet?”

“Not yet,” Ted grins. “You catch any ghosts yet?”

Schlatt holds up the helmet.

“One,” he says. “But we’ve still got five more to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was a bit of an angsty chapter my b
> 
> school is kicking my ass and i'm running out of pre-written chapters so updates might start becoming less regular, please bear with me :,) i definitely have a chapter for next week tho so you can expect at least one more friday update!
> 
> as always, kudos and comments mean so so much to me, so i'd love to hear your thoughts!! those of u who comment on every chapter have literally my entire heart i love u
> 
> also i still dont know how to remove the first chapter end note so enjoy that again


	5. five. stay strapped

For a couple days, it’s radio silence from Schlatt. Charlie gave him all of their contacts, so he can contact any of them at any time, but he hasn’t. So Carson goes through his days like normal: he goes to class, pays a minimal amount of attention, grabs lunch with Josh, sits on his bed and plays Breath of the Wild, procrastinates on his media project, gets dinner with his roommates, gets dragged along to parties, rinse, and repeat. It’s not a bad cycle; he likes his sophomore year. He’s certainly more social than he was the year before, probably due to his mental health being in better shape, and he’s doing slightly better in his classes, though he’s still at a solid C average. The routine of it all, though, is a little grating, especially now that he’s been cursed with the casual knowledge that ghosts are real.

Well, and beyond, it seems. At least, that’s what it seems that Schlatt’s hinted at. He’d told them that he would let them know about other cases besides ghosts, meaning he did other shit as well. Carson thought he was handling the whole ghost thing pretty well, but if asked to catch a leprechaun or some shit, that might be the final straw.

“I just don’t get it, Carson.”

Carson looks up from his phone’s Twitter feed and frowns across the table at Noah.

“What, calculus?” he asks dryly.

The two of them had stopped by the cafeteria across from the math department building after their weekly joint struggle of dragging themselves to their calc class only to send each other shitty Reddit memes the whole time. Noah sets down his spoon with a clink and gives an annoyed laugh.

“Well, obviously,” he sighs. “But no. I don’t get this whole… unpaid ghost hunting labor thing.”

“It’s not really labor,” Carson snorts. “Last time all I really did was stand there awkwardly while a helmet realized its own mortality. A little emotionally draining, yeah, but not that  _ hard _ .”

“I dunno, I just,” Noah leans back in the booth a little. “What’s the point?”

“I guess- well, this is gonna sound fuckin’ pretentious,” Carson chuckles. “But I felt bad just not doing anything. Not that it’s my problem, because it’s not.”

“Exactly,” Noah says, pulling his beanie further down on his ears. “Dude dies and gets stuck in a helmet? Sucks to be him, man, but I’m really not about to go out of my way to reunite him with his ghost friends.”

Carson shrugs.

“It’s also interesting,” he says. “I mean, ghosts, dude. You find out they’re real, and you don’t want to know more?”

“Not in the slightest,” Noah says dismissively. “I’m gonna leave that situation the fuck alone. Life is complicated enough as is.”

“Is it, though?” Carson comments, swirling the soggy cereal around in his bowl absently.

Noah laughs incredulously.

“I mean, yeah?” he says. “I mean, like, just calculus, man. I’m too busy trying to figure out what the hell a derivative is to worry about ghosts.”

“It’s the rate of change of-”

“Don’t you dare talk about math while I’m eating,” Noah interrupts threateningly.

“My bad, dude,” Carson laughs. “And I dunno, I guess I’m just not too concerned about school. I don’t really know what my odds of graduating are, anyway.”

Noah blinks, looking a little taken aback.

“You thinkin’ about dropping out?” he asks, surprised.

Carson sets his spoon down and sits back, shrugging.

“Maybe,” he says. “I dunno, I haven’t even touched my media project, and that’s what I’m supposed to be, like, passionate about. I think maybe that’s why I was so eager to hop on the whole ghost hunting thing. Just for, I dunno, something to put my energy toward.”

“Carson, don’t leave me,” Noah says, brows furrowed. “I can’t handle Cooper and Travis on my own.”

Carson laughs.

“I’ll definitely finish this year, at least,” he assures him. “Don’t worry.”

“Good,” Noah says. “And dude, you’re smarter than I think you give yourself credit for. I can help you with the media project if you want.”

Carson smiles, being reminded of why Noah had immediately become one of the closest friends he’d made at CSULB.

“Thanks, man,” he says. “It means a lot.”

His phone buzzes on the table, and Carson’s heart skips a beat as he reads the notification. It’s from Schlatt, a group message to Travis, Charlie, Cooper, and him.

_ I need at least two of you to help me out with a case tonight. It’s most likely not related to the Australians, but I’m going to need some extra help. _

“Schlatt,” Noah says disdainfully, reading the message at the same time Carson does. “Y’know, I don’t trust that guy one bit.”

\---

Charlie had a DnD session planned for that night, and Cooper had already committed to an event at the skatepark, so Carson and Travis ended up agreeing to help Schlatt. Since neither of them can drive and are far too broke for an Uber, they end up resorting to taking the bus to the address that Schlatt had sent them. The nearest bus stop is a couple blocks away from the place, so they walk the rest of the way. The street starts to get strangely silent, even for nearly midnight, as they get closer to the address, and they quickly realize it’s because most of the street is either empty lots or under construction.

“I’m not a fan of the cranes n’ everything just kinda sittin’ there at night,” Travis declares, eyeing a crane as they walk by it.

Carson snorts.

“And why’s that, Travis?” he asks indulgently.

“Dunno,” Travis says, kicking at a rock on the sidewalk. “It’s spooky.”

“Well, you’re the psychic,” Carson laughs. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“That’s right,” Travis says smugly.

Both of them tense up as a car’s headlights cut down the otherwise darkened road. Walking alone after dark in LA already had Carson uneasy, but the deserted street only heightened that feeling. His heart rate spikes as the car slows down next to them, and he can tell Travis is about to bolt before the passenger side window rolls down to reveal Schlatt.

“Did you guys fuckin’ walk here?” he asks incredulously.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of us, man,” Carson gripes. “And no, of course not. We took the bus.”

“Can neither of you drive?” Schlatt asks, amusement creeping into his tone.

“Uh, that’s rich talk coming from you,” Ted cuts in from the driver’s seat.

“I can drive, Ted,” Schlatt snaps. “I just don’t have a fucking car, and you’d kill me if I ever touched yours.”

“That’s right,” Ted agrees. “Hop on in the Ted mobile, boys.”

Carson hears the click of him unlocking the car, and he and Travis both slide into the back seat. Ted starts off again with a jolt before either of them are able to buckle in.

“So here’s the deal, boys,” Schlatt says, and Carson can see his intense gaze in the rearview mirror, off of which Ted has an eclectic collection of crystals and other trinkets hanging. “My man Connor, who runs my business number, got a call from a contractor that’s doing work on this street. He says a lot of his workers are complaining about uneasy feelings, nausea, and, specifically, the smell of sulfur. So of course, he thinks it’s a gas leak, but eventually they rule that out. Someone tells him the cause could be supernatural, and so he turns to me, like many people running out of options. And what did I say, Ted?”

“You said, Ted, that sounds like a portal to hell,” Ted replies indulgently.

“Exactly,” Schlatt says. “And what do you know? Just after contacting me, security cameras catch a suspicious individual after hours, when no one is supposed to be there, leaving the site and returning to it later. A little suspicious on its own, but even more suspicious is the fact that there’s no way to get in without the security cameras catching it. Meaning, the person somehow came out without ever going in.”

“Like a portal,” Ted reiterates.

“Woah, woah, woah, can we backtrack to the hell thing?” Carson cuts in. “That’s kind of something big I didn’t know was, like, an established thing.”

“Sure it is,” Schlatt says casually. “Realm of demons.”

“Also would have been nice to know the existence of,” Carson says, but to be honest, he’s not even that freaked out. It seems like after the initial ghost encounter, he figured that pretty much anything was on the table.

“Well, they’re real, and we might see one tonight,” Schlatt says casually. “Hopefully not, as that might get unpleasant.”

“Huh,” Travis says flatly.

“We’re here to close the portal,” Schlatt explains. “Ted and I have closed multiple portals, it’s not super difficult if you know what you’re doing, which we do. The only problem is, if the individual sneaking in and out is a demon, and they’re the one who opened the portal, they’re going to know if someone’s fucking with it, and they’re not going to be happy. However, hopefully, since this land has been abandoned for awhile, it’s just an old untouched portal, and whoever actually created it doesn’t give a fuck about what happens to it, and whoever’s been passing through it is just using it.”

“Wha, well, what if there is a fucking demon?” Carson asks, starting to get a little more rightfully concerned. “Do we just fuckin’ die?”

Schlatt laughs.

“No, Carson,” he assures him. “I told you guys when we made this deal, didn’t I? There’s no high risk for you guys. You’re outsiders, innocents. Your souls are protected. Demons can’t touch you by nature, except if they’ve made a deal with you. So don’t go shaking anyone’s hands once we’re inside, not like there’s any situation where you would. Even if there is a demon, you two are safe.”

“Me and Schlatt, on the other hand,” Ted grumbles. “Are fuckin’ target practice.”

“Hardly,” Schlatt scoffs. “Look, Ted, we’re formidable enough. And it’s not like we came empty handed.”

The car slows as they reach a dead end, with the under construction skeleton of a large building on the plot at the end of the road.

“This is it,” Ted says, pulling up to the curb and parking the car. “Schlatt, gimme the goods.”

“I hate it when you say that so much,” Schlatt gripes, handing over a heavy looking backpack to Ted. “Take whatever you want.”

“I just need a flashlight,” Ted says, and Carson can hear heavy objects knocking together as he digs through the bag. “Oo, and maybe one of these bad boys.”

He pulls out a sizable water gun, the kind Carson would’ve felt invincible pulling up to a water gun fight with his friends with as a kid. Before he can even ask why that’s in there, Schlatt swats it out of his hand.

“That’s not for you,” he says irritably. “They’re for Carson and Travis.”

“Um, as much as I am always excited for water guns,” Travis cuts in politely. “Why, exactly, do we get them?”

“It’s the most effective way of weaponizing holy water,” Schlatt says casually. “We get a weekly stock from the church across the street from us.”

“Uh, is that, like, something priests are allowed to do?” Carson asks.

“I’m blackmailing them, so it really doesn’t matter either way,” Schlatt shrugs. “Anyway, each of you take one.”

Carson doesn’t even have time to unpack Schlatt’s previous statement before being handed the water gun. He pulls the trigger experimentally, which Schlatt visibly flinches at.

“Not in the car, you dipshit,” he says quickly.

“They’re not full, Schlatt,” Ted says, sounding amused. “Don’t worry.”

He passes back a metal water bottle to Carson, which has masking tape on it that simply has “HOLY” written on it in Sharpie.

“Here, fill ‘em up with that,” he says. “Please don’t spill on my seats.”

“Will do,” Carson says.

He opens the tank of the gun and carefully pours the water in until it’s almost spilling out, then screws the cap closed tight. He hands the water bottle over to Travis, who proceeds to splash a little onto his lap.

“Whoopsies,” he says casually.

“I don’t like the sound of that, Travis,” Ted says suspiciously, twisting around to look over his shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,” Travis says quickly.

He fills up his gun without further error, and passes the water bottle back to Schlatt after replacing the cap, who takes it gingerly and stuffs it back into the bag.

“You guys don’t get water guns?” Carson asks, grinning.

“Nah,” Schlatt says casually, and Carson whirls around to face him at the sound of a gun cocking.

It’s a black handgun, and despite growing up in Indiana, Carson doesn’t know enough about guns to know what model or whatever it is, but it’s definitely real, and Schlatt is casually inserting a magazine into it.

“Um?” Travis questions loudly.

“Holy shit,” Carson marvels. “What the fuck, dude?”

“Relax,” Schlatt says, rolling his eyes. “It’s licensed to me. I know how to use it.”

“He’s a good shot,” Ted assures them. “I can testify to that.”

“Do  _ you  _ have a gun?” Carson asks him, still rightfully taken aback.

“I don’t need one,” Ted says with a crooked smile that somehow convinces Carson that he’s telling the truth. “Anyway, I’ll be the one closing the portal. If something goes south, you boys can deal with it. I’ll be busy chanting in Latin.”

They divvy up the rest of the supplies in the next minute or so, everyone grabbing a flashlight. The rest of the bag, as Carson sees when he’s passed it to dig out a flashlight, is full of cheap half-melted candles, a lighter, the box of kosher salt, and the holy water. There’s something very amusing to him about the seemingly low budget for their whole operation, despite Schlatt claiming to be a big name in the supernatural world. He guesses, though, there’s no reason to buy fancier shit if this does the trick.

There’s something extremely eerie about the half constructed building in front of them, in the way the paper walls ripple in the wind, or the darkness behind the frameless windows. Even though Carson made fun of Travis for his statement against construction vehicles at night, on some level he sort of understands it- there’s something ominous about the crane in front of it just sitting there with its arm still extended, like some kind of slumbering beast. A chill runs down his spine.

“Do you feel that?” Schlatt asks, voice low.

“Yeah,” Travis says. “Gotta say, not a fan.”

“I don’t know if it’s me just being a pussy, but I feel like even I can feel something,” Carson adds.

“The energy of a portal is pretty potent,” Schlatt says. “You very well could be feeling it.”

“I feel like he’s probably being a pussy,” Ted says, then sends a grin his way that tells him it’s good-natured. “C’mon, we’re not about to close it just by staring at the fuckin’ thing.”

Schlatt leads the way in, which makes sense, even though he’s opted not to grab a flashlight. His gun is tucked into his belt, perhaps not the safest place, but Carson decides to take his word for it that he’s well versed in gun safety. Ted follows behind him, Carson and Travis flanking him with their water guns and flashlights like the world’s stupidest secret service. The building is pretty massive- it's going to be some sort of office building, Carson guesses, or some kind of LA McMansion. It's a little more developed inside than out, as most of the walls are in, creating an entry hall type room that branches off into multiple halls. There's a low, almost electrical sort of hum ringing in Carson’s ears, which is strange, because there doesn't seem to be any kind of working electricity yet. Whatever it is, it makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Wordlessly, Schlatt heads toward to right after what seems to be a moment of consideration. The building is silent except for their footsteps and the strange hum. They slowly make their way down the hall, shining flashlights into dark, empty rooms. Before long, they reach a dead end of wooden planks and stacked construction equipment.

“Not this way, I suppose,” Schlatt says, turning to face them. His face immediately drops. “Where’s Travis?”

“Huh?” Carson questions, glancing over to where Travis had been step in step with him and being met with only a concerned looking Ted. “Fucking hell.”

“We have to get this dude a baby leash,” Ted comments tersely. “C’mon, let’s backtrack.”

They had back down the way they came quickly, Carson pulling out his phone to pull up his contact to call him and ask where the hell he went. Before he has the chance to, a scream all too familiar from long nights of playing horror games together comes from somewhere to their right.

“Oh, shit,” Schlatt mutters.

“Travis!” Carson yells out, breaking into a sprint and abandoning all attempts at stealth.

Carson definitely does not consider himself an athletic person, as his switch saw way more usage than his campus gym card, but worry for Travis is enough to allow him to speed around the corner and in the vague direction of his scream. Back in the entrance hall, he blindly picks the door across from the door they came in, a choice that turns out to be the right one as he bursts into a large central room and almost collides with Travis.

“Carson!” he gasps, grabbing his arm. “Uh, I heard a noise, and I found-”

He gestures vaguely to the other side of the room, where a tall, thin figure stands opposite them, golden blond hair gleaming in the moonlight streaming in from the paneless window at the other end of the room.

“That’s right, bitch,” the figure spits, revealing an adolescent voice with a strong British accent. “You and your friend run along now.”

Cautiously, Carson points the flashlight at the figure, whose eyes gleam red at the sudden light. It's a teenage boy, scrawny and awkward looking, who’s trying very hard to look intimidating, even though he flinches when the light turns to him and is wearing a t-shirt and cargo shorts. Even after he realizes there’s no imminent threat, Carson’s still on edge enough that it scares him to hear two sets of footsteps rapidly approaching the room, until he turns around to realize it’s Schlatt and Ted, having caught up to him. Ted immediately claps a hand to one of both Carson and Travis’s shoulders.

“Everyone alright?” he asks with a tone reminiscent of fatherly concern. “Hey, who the fuck is that kid?”

“No idea,” Travis says honestly. “He scared the balls out of me.”

“Who the fuck are you guys?” the kid snaps, crossing his arms. “That's the real question.”

“No, it's not,” Schlatt says flatly. “How did you get in here?”

The kid scoffs.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts.

“Through the front door,” Ted answers casually. “But you came through the portal, didn't you?”

The kid blinks, looking exceedingly confused.

“Portal?” he repeats, raising his light eyebrows. “Like… the video game?”

“Schlatt, I think it might just be a kid,” Carson says under his breath. “He probably sneaks in here to smoke, or something.”

Schlatt eyes the kid skeptically.

“Maybe,” he agrees. “Hey, kid, you come here often?”

“No,” he responds immediately. “I mean, what, is that a pick up line? That's really inappropriate, you know, and I’m not gay, so honestly I wouldn't, uh, not that there’s anything wrong with that, but-”

“Shut the  _ fuck up _ ,” Schlatt groans. “Look, kid, this is kind of a legal issue. Just tell us why you’re here, and we won't contact your parents or anything.”

The kid’s gaze darts around the room skittishly.

“What, are you the police or something?” he asks sarcastically. “Kinda lame police, with water guns n’ all.”

There’s a beat, where Carson struggles to come up with a way to explain what the hell their job here is without sounding insane. He looks over at Schlatt, who’s sizing up the kid with narrowed eyes.

“Carson, Travis,” he says, tilting his chin up in the kid’s direction. “Give him a little demonstration of the water guns.”

Carson hesitates, but Travis doesn’t for a second, decisively hoisting up his water gun and shooting the kid with a steady stream.

“What the- OH, FUCK!” the kid screeches, stumbling back as it hits him.

The room is bathed in a harsh red glow as the kid starts to  _ transform  _ before their eyes. Large red horns curl out from behind his ears, and the skin from his forearms down becomes a similar shade of scarlet, as well as hard and scaly, and his fingers extended into claws. He shrinks back for a moment when he first is hit, but when he opens his eyes to scowl at them, his irises have become a bright red. Travis looks shocked, like he didn’t expect anything to happen.

“What the fresh hell?” Carson breathes, clutching at his own water gun for security.

“Fuck you!” the kid howls, and Carson can see steam curling off of his body where the holy water hit him. “That hurt! What'd I ever do to you, huh?”

“And there's our demon,” Schlatt says triumphantly. “Nice job, Travis. So this is your portal, then?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, man,” the demon says, near whining. “Leave me alone!”

“No can do, sorry,” Schlatt says casually, and Carson is amazed by his nonchalance. “So who sent you?”

“No one sent me,” the demon spits. “I work on my own. Now leave me alone or I’ll kill you all!”

He accentuates his last point by swiping his arm, flames appearing out of nowhere and dancing up and down his arm. Carson takes an instinctive step back as a wave of heat hits him, and Schlatt casually steps in front of Ted, Travis, and him, unruffled.

“Nice firework show,” he comments condescendingly, pulling out his gun and pointing it at him. “Now tell me your name.”

The demon visibly flinches when he pulls the gun out, but stands his ground. There’s still a very childish aura about him, even when engulfed in flame.

“I’m a demon,” he laughs, nerves edging his tone. “That can’t kill me.”

“Oh, I know that,” Schlatt assures him. “But it hurts a hell of a lot, doesn’t it?”

The demon eyes the gun, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows nervously. After a minute, he extinguishes the fire on his arm.

“Tommy,” he says defeatedly. “My name is Tommy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tommy wasn't in the fic, and now tommy's innit.
> 
> anyway.
> 
> this is only half of what was originally one chapter that got HELLA long, and the second part is still pretty long, so watch out for that. it's also a pretty fucking crazy chapter, so get hype! if you want. thank you guys for all of your support so far! your comments make me so happy and i'm so glad that you're all enjoying it so much :,) i hope you all have a great week!


	6. six. travis 163 iq moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a beefy one babey
> 
> \---  
> “Tommy,” he says defeatedly. “My name is Tommy.”

“There we go, Tommy,” Schlatt says, smiling a little. “How old are you, Tommy?”

Tommy kicks at a pebble on the concrete ground sullenly.

“Sixteen.”

“No, your  _ real _ age,” Schlatt says, relaxing his gun a little but not putting it down. “Not how old you present as.”

Tommy rolls his eyes.

“Sixteen,” he repeats insistently.

Schlatt stares at him, then laughs a little.

“Oh, you’re an  _ infant _ ,” he realizes. “Holy shit, kid, you’re a  _ child _ .”

The comment strikes Carson as a little weird, especially since he would only estimate Schlatt's age to be four or five years older than Tommy’s. The comment seems to strike hard with Tommy, though, as he rears up indignantly at it.

“Hey, shut up!” he protests. “They say it’s amazing the amount of power I have for being so young! All those boomers Keem has in power are gonna be in awe at how powerful the new generation is when we grow up, mark my fucking  _ words _ .”

Schlatt raises his brows in amusement.

“I admire your spunk, kid, I do,” he admits, grinning. “But it's mostly naivety. Now, close the portal and leave, or we can do this a less pleasant way.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tommy says stubbornly.

The gunshot scares the living shit out of Carson, and evidently out of Tommy too, as he shrieks in fear in a way that makes Carson think he’d been shot. The bullet hadn’t hit him, as Carson can see the whole in the wall were it had struck. But it was enough to scare him into a confession.

“Jesus Christ, man!” Tommy gripes, voice shrill. “I don't know how, okay? I don't know how to close it! Please don’t shoot me!”

Schlatt doesn’t move the gun for a moment, the tip smoking. He seems to want to let Tommy cower for a bit until he lowers it.

“You don’t know how to close it?” Ted speaks up skeptically. “But… you opened it.”

“I know, I know,” Tommy grumbles, still eyeing Schlatt’s gun cautiously. “It was sort of an accident?”

“How the  _ hell  _ did you manage that?” Schlatt questions.

If Charlie was here, he would certainly have some quip to make about the irony of Schlatt’s use of ‘hell’ while discussing a portal there, but he isn’t, and so Carson resists the urge to do so himself.

“Look, I don’t know!” Tommy insists defensively. “Me and a friend were just sort of fucking around and we made it happen, man. We figured it could just be a cool thing to have, I dunno.”

“That’s actually sort of impressive,” Ted comments.

Tommy lifts his chin a little, clearly pleased with himself.

“I know, thank you,” he gloats.

“That you’re that fucking stupid,” Ted finishes with a snort.

Tommy splutters incomprehensibly for a moment, and before he can get in a word edgewise, Schlatt cuts him off.

“Look, kid,” he says. “I need this portal gone tonight, okay?”

“I don’t know how!” Tommy reiterates, throwing out his clawed hands in exasperation.

“Let me finish,” Schlatt says through gritted teeth. “I know you don’t. That’s why I propose that, in exchange for you getting the hell out of here and vowing to never return, my buddy Ted here will show you how.”

Tommy glances over to Ted in surprise.

“You’re a demon?” he asks.

Travis and Carson share a very confused look.

“Oh, no,” Ted laughs. “I’m just half witch.”

The flippancy in the way he states it gives Carson whiplash.

“You’re what?” he blurts.

Ted shrugs casually.

“Yeah, on my mom’s side,” he says. “I’m mostly self-taught, though. She didn’t really want me to get involved with witch shit, but after I left for college, I mean, what’s she gonna do from fuckin’ Massachusetts?”

“Dude, that’s so awesome,” Travis gushes. “Do you have a wand? Or like, a broomstick?”

Ted laughs, and Schlatt sighs heavily. Carson nudges Travis in a cut-it-out sort of way.

“What?” Travis protests.

“Y’know, I’m getting the sense that those two don’t really know anything about what’s happening,” Tommy comments wryly.

“They’re unpaid interns, don’t worry about it,” Schlatt says, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m just showin’ them the ropes. Anyway, this isn’t about them. We show you how to close the portal, you fuck off and never come back to this site.”

Tommy frowns pensively, making a show of seeming to consider it.

“Deal,” he says decisively after a few moments. He holds out a hand. “Shake on it, yeah?”

Schlatt laughs, the noise high and almost maniacal. The dude should voice an animated supervillain or something.

“Oh, so you think I’m stupid,” he snickers, crossing his arms, which makes Carson incredibly nervous with the gun in his hand. “Look, Tommy, this is not a deal. This is us doing you a favor, and then you leaving the area or else I will shoot you for real.”

Tommy draws his hand back, looking a little embarrassed.

“Okay, Jesus,” he mutters. “Why do you care so much, anyway? Did someone send you?”

“The contractor working on this land hired me to get rid of the portal,” Schlatt explains. “Not necessarily  _ you,  _ though I figure he doesn’t want any demons hanging around either. You don’t have to look so suspicious, Tommy. I can assure you you’re probably not important enough for someone to send someone specifically after you.”

“Well, alright, then,” Tommy scoffs, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You don’t know me.”

“Exactly,” Schlatt says flatly. “Ted, just show him how to close the portal so we can get this over with.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Tommy cuts in argumentatively. “If we close the portal, how am I supposed to get back home?”

“There’s a regulated portal to hell a couple blocks from here,” Schlatt says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll give you the address, if I’m feeling nice.”

“Well, but, that’s for ambassadors,” Tommy protests, eyes wide. “I’m not a fuckin’ ambassador. If I go there, I’ll get in major trouble.”

“That isn’t my issue,” Schlatt says carelessly.

Even though he’s clearly a demon, Carson can’t help but feel a little bad for the kid. The adolescent instinct of being terrified of getting in trouble is still fresh in his mind, and there’s something very human around his worry, even if his horns and claws told Carson he was anything but.

“Look, Tommy, if we let you go through this portal, we have no way to stop you from just concealing it from us and leaving,” Ted explains, with a bit more empathy than Schlatt. “I’d like to trust you, but to be honest, I don’t, and we’re getting paid for this, so we have to make sure the portal is closed properly.”

Tommy huffs, crossing his arms and still looking a bit sulky.

“Alright, I suppose that makes sense,” he relents.

“Can you show me where the portal is?” Ted asks.

Tommy nods, brushing some of his blonde curls out of his face. He takes a couple steps forward, pauses, then takes another hesitantly. He holds a hand over the ground like he’s warming it over a fire.

“It’s right about…” he says uncertainly. “Ah, here.”

He flicks his hand a little, and the circumference of a large circle encasing most of the middle of the room lights up, glowing a crimson red. The electrical hum from early returns with full force, sounding somewhat like an overworked PC. There’s what feels like a gust of hot wind that sends goosebumps racing up Carson’s arm as more details fill out, the light racing down different paths as a pattern forms rapidly. It’s a pentagram, with writing in symbols Carson doesn’t recognize running along the lines that make up the five points. It looks pretty demonic to him- he’d been wary of letting his slasher film knowledge skew his perception of the new world he was learning about, but this seemed pretty accurate to the horror movie depiction. Even though Carson was somewhat more relaxed about Tommy and his visible demon-ness now, he still definitely wasn’t comfortable, and the portal, whether through magic or just his common sense, was making him extra uneasy.

“Ta-da,” Tommy says, clearly proud.

“You made this on accident?” Schlatt questions, raising an eyebrow critically.

“Yeah,” Tommy says uncertainly. Then, puffing his chest out a little, “why, is it impressive?”

Schlatt rolls his eyes.

“It’s fine,” he says curtly, leaning against one of the wooden support beams and pulling out his phone. “As long as it’s gone soon.”

“I don’t know the demon method for closing the portal, but I do know the witch way,” Ted explains, pulling out candles from the backpack. “Someone help me set these up.”

“I can,” Carson volunteers, because he’s been feeling a lot like dead weight on these jobs.

He crosses over to Ted, avoiding the portal, and takes a candle in each hand.

“Set them around the perimeter parallel to the points of the pentagram,” Ted explains.

After Carson and Ted finish placing five of the chunky, melted-down candles around the perimeter, one for each point, Ted pulls the lighter out from the bag.

“Oh, no need,” Tommy says quickly.

He waves a hand casually, red-hot flames immediately flickering to life on each candle’s wick. He glances over at Schlatt as if to say  _ see, I can do shit _ , but Schlatt seems disinterested in the whole process, as he’s scrolling on his phone absently.

“Well, that works,” Ted says brightly. He replaces the lighter into the bag and pulls out the salt instead. “Tommy, if you want to move back, I’m gonna make a salt circle. This is really more for getting rid of someone else’s portal, so again, you can probably skip this step.”

“Good,” Tommy comments, eyeing the salt. “I hate that stuff.”

“So, how do you season your food in hell, if you’re all burned by salt?” Ted asks, grinning, as he fluidly sprinkles a thin line of salt around the perimeter of the portal.

“I don’t fuckin’ know, my mum does the cooking,” Tommy scoffs.

“I forgot you were a child for a second there,” Ted says. “Are we keeping you up past your bedtime?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Tommy says irritabley. “I’ll have you know, uh, what’s your name?”

“Ted,” he replies, still working on the salt circle. “Alright, there’s a closing chant, uh, which I have on a Google doc, because I’m a professional- uh, my phone is in the backpack, Schlatt, can you hand me it?”

Schlatt looks up from his own phone and looks at Ted with raised eyebrows. Ted opens his mouth in a silent “oh.”

“Fine, I’ll make the fuckin intern do it,” Ted scoffs. “Carson, can you get my phone?”

“Uh, yeah,” Carson says, crossing over to the bag.

Ted’s phone, which has what he guesses is some kind of sigil drawn on the case, is sitting in the pile of equipment at the bottom of the bag. He hands the phone to Ted, who takes it with one hand while finishing off the salt circle with a flourish with the other.

“Thank you,” Ted says.

“Carson,” Travis speaks up suddenly from the other side of the room.

Carson looks to him questioningly.

“Cooper, uh, texted,” he says quickly. “About the, just me, about the thing in the, thingy, uh, just come here.”

Snorting at the amount of difficulty he had with the sentence, Carson crosses the room over to him, taking care to avoid disrupting the salt circle.

“I’m going to start the chant now, so I can’t stop for anything once I start,” Ted announces, who has Tommy looking over his shoulder at the phone in earnest. “That’s a warning. Everyone behave.”

Carson gives him a quick thumb’s up before turning to Travis.

“Cooper didn’t text,” Travis whispers conspiratorially.

“Yeah, I know, buddy,” Carson returns quietly. “You’re not a good liar.”

“I would disagree, but whatever,” Travis says breezily. “Look, I don’t trust Schlatt.”

“You’ve said that before,” Carson says. “I mean, I get it. He’s a little intimidating, but I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“No,” Travis urges him insistently. “He’s hiding something and I know it. Look, Carson, who’s the psychic here?”

“I don’t think-” Carson snorts. “I don’t think that’s necessarily how it works.”

“Probably not,” Travis admits. “But think about it. From the beginning, he’s never said he’s psychic. He’s always said it like he’s something else. What is that something else, Carson? Something that doesn’t cross salt lines? Something that shakes hands with everyone he meets?”

For a second, Carson just stares at him, silent except for Ted reciting Latin- Carson recognizes it as Latin because it sounds like Italian but in cursive- in the background. The pieces start to click into place.

“Travis, that might be the most intelligent thing you’ve ever said,” he says in wonder.

“I know, I got, like, smoke blowin’ out of my brain from thinking too hard,” Travis giggles. “But I haven’t liked him from the start, Carson, and I think that’s why. I think he’s a demon.”

Carson swallows hard, a terrible realization setting in. He glances over at Schlatt, who’s looking unassuming and bored, but something about the way the shadow from his baseball cap obscures part of his face is enough to make Carson uneasy.

“And we made a deal with him,” he says slowly.

“We shook his hand,” Travis agrees. “Like, so many times. He probably owns our freaking souls!”

“Well, okay, let’s- I mean, we don’t really know enough about the whole demon thing to figure that out, really,” Carson reasons. “Let’s not, y’know, lose our minds just yet. We have no way of knowing that.”

Travis frowns, thinking, which always looks somewhat painful for him.

“When I hit Tommy with the holy water, he turned all demon-y,” Travis points out.

“Right,” Carson realizes. “So, if there’s some sort of way we can, I don’t know, fuckin’ trick him into touching it, or some shit.”

“Exactly,” Travis agrees enthusiastically. “Some kind of trap or something.”

Schlatt’s voice calling out across the room makes them both jump.

“You boys want to share with the class?” he asks wryly. Seeing their startled reaction, he adds, snorting, “sheesh, okay. I don’t bite, you know.”

“Shush, man,” Tommy cuts in irritably. “Let Ted do what he needs to do, right?”

Not pausing his Latin, Ted gives Schlatt a look that says he agrees. Schlatt rolls his eyes, but relents, shoving his phone in his sweatshirt pocket and crossing over closer to Carson and Travis.

“Is everything okay?” Schlatt asks, voice lowered a little for Ted’s sake.

Carson and Travis stare at him blankly.

“Huh?” Carson manages.

Schlatt raises his eyebrows.

“You said Cooper texted, and then you got all hushed,” he explains. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but if you need to leave, or something-”

“Oh, no, no,” Carson cuts him off reassuringly. “It’s just, uh, it’s just some stupid friend group drama. Nothing serious.”

“Ah,” Schlatt nods, sticking his hands in his pockets casually. “I don’t miss unnecessary petty drama, I really don’t. That’s the good thing about only really interacting with Ted and Connor, nowadays, since I only go to campus for class.”

“What year are you at UCLA, anyway?” Carson asks nonchalantly, trying to gain an air of normalcy.

“Junior, same as Ted,” Schlatt says. “Workin’ on a business degree. Don’t think I’ll really need it, since business is going well anyway, but it’s still nice to have. I like learning, as fuckin’ nerdy as that sounds.”

“How did you, uh, get into this  _ business,  _ anyway?” Carson asks.

Schlatt scratches at the light stubble on his chin pensievely.

“Well, I’ve been helping people out here and there for awhile,” he answers vaguely. “But I really started making it an actual business freshman year, when I met Connor. We had a shitton of classes together, so we just kind of clicked. He convinced me to make Schlatt n’ Co, which was, uh, supposed to be a placeholder name, but we never changed it. I met Ted around the same time, ‘cause he was the only other student in my dorm that was even remotely supernatural. I helped him start coming into his witchiness, he helped me out with jobs here and there. We moved in together sophomore year, and I dunno, the rest is history, I suppose.”

“Are you a witch?” Travis asks, and there’s a tone of suspicion in his voice that Carson knows Schlatt picks up on by the way he frowns down at Travis.

“No,” he says shortly. “But I know quite a few.”

“And you’re not a psychic,” Travis adds, clarifying.

Schlatt frowns.

“No, I am,” he says, chuckling a little without much humor. “Psychic is an adjective, Travis. It just means that you’re highly sensitive to the supernatural, like you, like me. It’s a spectrum.”

“Okay, right,” Travis continues, brows furrowed. “But you said earlier that you were something else, more powerful than a psychic. What does that mean?”

Carson can tell Schlatt is getting uncomfortable with the conversation by the way he’s sizing Travis up suspiciously. Travis has his water gun in a death grip, fingers in close proximity to the trigger. He elbows Travis in the side discreetly, trying to tell him that this is not the time nor place, but Travis doesn’t give any sort of reaction, still staring down Schlatt.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Schlatt says flippantly after a moment. “It’s a little complicated, especially for someone who just recently started learning about any of this.”

“We’re open to listen,” Carson says casually, hoping Schlatt can explain and show him and Travis that they were just being paranoid. “I’m really interested in all this stuff.”

Schlatt looks reluctant, glancing down at his phone, then over to Ted and Tommy.

“I don’t know if we really have enough time left to get into the semantics of supernatural classifications,” Schlatt says, chuckling a little bit in the dry way that he does. “I’m sort of a specific case, anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

Carson is content enough with that answer for now, but he can tell Travis isn’t. Travis wears his heart on his sleeve- he doesn’t get genuinely pissed off often, but when he does, Carson can always tell. Schlatt glances over at the portal, which has started pulsing light at intervals, and turns, seemingly to go check on Ted. Carson only just notices Travis hoisting up the water gun in his peripheral before he shoots a stream of holy water straight to the back of Schlatt’s head.

“Travis!” he scolds loudly, knocking his gun down, at the same time Schlatt yells out in surprise in a language he doesn’t recognize- Russian, maybe?

He’s hunched over a little, flinching from the sudden hit, and Carson’s stomach does a somersault as he realizes he can see steam rising up from him. Ted and Tommy are both looking over in confusion, Ted not having stopped his chant. Schlatt lowers his shoulders and pulls his Yankees cap off swiftly, and once he can see his full head Carson realizes there are horns curling out from behind his ears, similar to Tommy’s. But unlike Tommy’s, whose come to a point and stop, Schlatt’s keep going, forming large, ram-like horns that look like they could skewer a person straight through.

“Holy shit,” Tommy pipes up, voicing Carson’s feelings perfectly.

“Now what the genuine  _ fuck _ ,” Schlatt begins, tone even and measured. “Did you hope to accomplish from that?”

Ted’s risen to his feet, one arm held out in a placating manner, the other holding the phone which he’s still reading the chant off of, gaze flickering between Schlatt and the screen. Schlatt is still facing away from them, shrouded slightly in shadow, but Carson can tell from the silhouette that he’s changing more than just gaining horns.

“You’re a demon,” Travis says, voice wavering a little but determined.

“Yeah, no  _ shit!”  _ Schlatt snaps.

“You lied to us!” Travis yells, gaining momentum.

Momentum which is destroyed the minute Schlatt turns around.

“I never  _ lied  _ to you,” he seethes through a barely human mouth.

Everything about him is hardly human. The bone structure of his face has completely changed, elongated and animalistic. It’s a goat, Carson realizes, heart hammering in his chest as he gawks at him. He’s got the head of a goat, albeit a horrifyingly human goat. His usual brown hair is gone, replaced by white fur that covers every surface of his skin that Carson can see, even peeking out from his sweatshirt sleeves. His eyes are a luminous yellow, glowing in a way that highlights his rectangular pupils. There’s something incredibly uncanny valley about him, in the strange, cryptic area in between animal and human, and Carson feels frozen in place looking at him, like he’s seeing something he shouldn’t be.

“Yeah, go on, look all fuckin’ petrified now,” he sneers, gesturing aggravatedly with his baseball cap still in hand. “You wanted this, motherfucker! You wanted a demon so  _ fuckin’ _ bad-”

He takes a step forward and Carson and Travis both scramble to aim their water guns. Ted is on his feet immediately, placing his towering form in between Schlatt and them while still glancing down at his phone, rapid fire chanting not stopping.

“Ted, fuck off,” Schlatt snaps, his strange eyes narrowing. “Focus on the portal.”

Ted scowls at him viciously, and the room fills with light as the crimson glow of the portal grows in intensity. As the light reaches an almost blinding point, Ted finishes chanting, and the portal seems to flash out of existence, a loud, electronic fizzling noise sending chills down Carson’s spine like he’d just been shocked.

“I’d be a little more focused if you boys could behave for  _ five minutes _ ,” Ted retorts immediately, stabbing a finger in Schlatt’s direction. “I mean, if you could act your fucking age, Schlatt, which I know is a fairly monumental task for you-”

“Hold up!” Tommy cuts in loudly, crossing over from where the portal had just been. “Hold the fucking phone. Did you say Schlatt?”

Ted raises his brows, looking from Tommy to Schlatt curiously.

“I mean, that’s his name,” Ted says, crossing his arms.

“You’re…” Tommy turns to Schlatt, wide eyed. “You’re Schlatt. The, like  _ the  _ Schlatt?”

Schlatt grimaces, not an uncommon expression for him, but weird to see translated onto his goat face.

“I mean, it’s not a popular name, is it?” he grumbles.

“You are!” Tommy says triumphantly, a grin creeping onto his face. “Dude, you’re like, my  _ idol _ , man!”

“What?” Carson questions, baffled, looking over to a very annoyed looking Schlatt. “Who  _ are  _ you?”

“Are you fucking daft?” Tommy scoffs. “Schlatt, bro. Rebel leader in the first great Heaven-Hell war. Traitor to the empire, looked Keem in the face and told him to fuck off. He’s the face of rebellion! That doesn’t ring a bell?”

“Uh,” Carson says. “Not exactly.”

“The face of rebellion, huh?” Ted quips, grinning at Schlatt.

Schlatt rolls his eyes.

“Look, kid,” he says tiredly. “It’s been along fuckin’ time. I don’t do that shit anymore. You and all your little anarchist friends can surely find someone else to mindlessly idolize.”

Tommy looks a little stunned, but he bounces back quickly, still starry-eyed.

“R-right, but do you- I mean, do you have any advice?” he asks eagerly. “What can I do? To support the movement, I mean, I mean I research all the rebellions, and everything, but no one really takes a sixteen year old seriously-”

“And they shouldn’t,” Schlatt says flatly.

That one really seems to kill Tommy’s spirit a little.

“Really?” he manages, looking hurt.

“It’s nothing personal, kid,” Schlatt assures him. “But you have no clue what you’re talking about. Just stay in school and keep your head down. I’m not telling you that I still wouldn’t love to stick it to those bastards on the council, but c’mon. I assure you none of them are shaking in their boots because a baby demon with a fuckin’ British accent hates authority.”

“Yeah, right, okay,” Tommy relents. “But not just me, the whole movement. Don’t you support it? Change is coming, really!”

Schlatt scoffs.

“That’s exactly what I said,” he said coldly. “And what every other revolutionary who’s ever failed has said. Don’t get too excited.”

Tommy furrows his brows, shaking his head a little.

“You’re…” he says quietly. “You’re not, uh-”

“Not what you were expecting?” Schlatt finishes, giving an irritated smile which reveals that his teeth are long and sharp. “Well, excuse me, you caught me at a bad time. I didn’t ask to be a fuckin’ symbol, and frankly, I don’t appreciate people like you putting words in my mouth of what I should support or believe. I’m out of fucking commission, okay? I’m not a hero, and neither are you. Get off your high fucking horse.”

Tommy looks genuinely wounded at that. He takes a step back, and Carson worries that he might start to cry. Instead, he raises both of his hands and flashes his middle fingers.

“You’re a bitch, Schlatt,” he spits, voice trembling a little. “Fuck you.”

Schlatt looks too stunned to look properly offended as Tommy turns to storm out, shifting back into his fully human looking form with a wave of his hand as he heads out the door.

“If you follow this street to the end and turn left, the portal is at the end of that street,” Ted calls after him. “It’s an office building, should say- and he’s- yep, he’s gone. He’ll figure it out, I’m sure.” 

Schlatt doesn’t say anything, just waves his hand in a similar manner to Tommy, his face shimmering like a mirage for a moment before it’s back to normal, horns and fur disappearing as well. Carson can’t help but stare. He’s got questions, but he doesn’t even know where to start, so he doesn’t ask them. Ted sighs.

“That was a little harsh,” he says quietly. “He’s just a kid, Schlatt.”

“I know,” Schlatt snaps, and though his eyes are back to their normal brown, Carson can still see the slightly animalistic glint in them. “I fucking know, Ted. I hate when kids- I hate it when they get all wrapped up in that shit, you know? If he gets exiled at sixteen, I mean, it’s not proving anything to anybody, I mean, I’ve seen…”

He shakes his head, taking his baseball cap out from his sweatshirt pocket and putting it back on.

“It’s stupid,” he says simply. “It’s stupid and pointless.”

Oh. Carson still feels bad for Tommy, but he supposes he was probably in the right in not encouraging Tommy’s rebellious behavior if it could get him hurt. It was still harsh of him, sure, but Tommy probably wouldn’t listen to anything less. Still, if Schlatt was some kind of hero to Tommy, that must’ve stung. Carson clears his throat awkwardly, figuring he should change the subject and address the elephant in the room.

“So, uh,” he says. “You’re, you’re a goat.”

Ted snorts as Schlatt rolls his eyes.

“Yes, thank you, Carson, I hadn’t noticed,” he drawls sarcastically. “A goatman, to be specific. A subset of demon. Tommy’s got some in him, I think. He’s got the horns growin’ in.”

“Like… the Goatman’s Bridge?” Carson asks.

Schlatt raises his eyebrows.

“Actually, yeah,” he says.

“I like ghost shows and shit,” Carson explains casually. “I mean, before I knew about all of this, I did.”

Schlatt nods.

“The Bridge was the domain of a very powerful goatman a long time ago,” he explains, sticking his hands in his jeans pockets. “All goatmen are powerful, really. Unless they’ve been exiled and stripped of most of their power. So. Y’know.”

There’s a bitterness in his voice that tells Carson he’s definitely talking about himself.

“I’m sorry,” Travis speaks up suddenly. “For shooting you. And for calling you a liar.”

Schlatt narrows his eyes, seemingly gauging Travis’s sincerity. He’s genuine- Carson can tell by the slightly guilty way he’s fiddling with his sweatshirt strings. Schlatt seems to come to the same conclusion, inclining his head slightly in Travis’s direction.

“It’s fine,” he says stiffly. “I can understand why you were angry with me, but I assure you that everything I did was for your own good.”

“You could’ve warned us about the whole demon thing,” Carson points out, crossing his arms, still a little irritated.

“I’ve learned that ‘hey, I’m a demon, wanna make a deal?’ is not the best business pitch,” Schlatt says dryly, quirking an eyebrow.

“And we made a deal, didn’t we?” Carson asks. “With you. Like, a demon contract or whatever.”

“You did,” Schlatt nods, shrugging a little. “And as such, you’re under my protection. There’s not much supernatural wise that can hurt you while under contract with me, unless you make another deal or I’m somehow incapacitated. Trust me, you don’t want to be wandering around supernatural sites without some kind of protection in that way.”

“It still would’ve been nice to know what we were walking into,” Carson grumbles.

“Can I ask…?” Travis asks cautiously. “Sorry, if you’re a demon, why do you go to UCLA? Why aren’t you, y’know, in Hell? Is that what Tommy was talking about?”

Schlatt sighs heavily, rolling his neck back absently.

“I was involved in a lot of stupid political shit a while ago and I pissed a lot of people off,” he says simply. “In Hell and in Heaven. I backstabbed a lot of powerful people and it all caught up to me. I was  _ lucky  _ to just get grounded on the surface. That’s like committing treason and getting put on house arrest. Now, I’m just a college student who ghost hunts in order to pay rent. That’s the abridged version, anyway.”

“What was the war Tommy was talking about?” Carson asks curiously, still trying to wrap his head around the whole Heaven and Hell politics.

The way Schlatt’s expression goes cold immediately makes Carson regret asking.

“I don’t really care to talk about it, if I’m being honest,” he says briskly.

Carson takes the hint and doesn’t question any further. From Ted’s nonchalant demeanor and expression, he figures that he probably knew all this about Schlatt already. The silence is broken by Schlatt’s phone lighting up in his pocket, ringtone filling the room.

_ The sailor said Brandy, you’re a fine girl, what a good wife- _

“It’s Connor,” Schlatt tells Ted, picking up. “Hey, Connor. You’re on speakerphone.”

“ _ Damn, and I was just about to ask you what you were wearing _ ,” Connor’s nasal, but not unpleasant, voice chuckles on the other end. “ _ I found the car _ .”

“The rental?” Schlatt asks.

“ _ Yeah, plate number MSFT444, licensed out to one Cameron McKay out of the Hertz Car Rental at LAX for the week of August 20th _ ,” Connor says. “ _ He was the driver. After the wreck, they took what was left of the thing to a junkyard for scrap metal. It’s just outside LA.” _

“I don’t know how you do it, Connor,” Ted says admiringly.

“ _ Hey, me neither,”  _ Connor says brightly. “ _ You should give me a raise.” _

“We’re literally partners,” Schlatt says dryly. “You get the exact same pay we do.”

“ _ Damn,” _ Connor jokes. “ _ But yeah, everything about the accident report points to this junkyard. If the car hasn’t been torn up already, it’ll still be there.” _

Schlatt looks up from the phone, smiling a little triumphantly.

“Clear your schedules, boys. I think we just found our second ghost.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all called it! it was really interesting to see, because as a writer, when you want to implicate something leading up to a plot twist, you never know how much to trust the reader to pick up on little details. but you guys are way too smart for me- if i could go back and edit it, i'd probably make some things a little less obvious, just to make it more fun :)
> 
> also, that dream smp election huh???? i will admit i did vote schlatt 2020- and i'd do it again, he plays an incredible villain and i love the story arc so far! it's so strange to me that when i started writing this fic i didn't even know what dream smp was (i knew tommy through sleepy bois and smp earth), and now i'm working to actively incorporate more of them into the plotline later on. it's fascinating to me as an old smp live fan to see people discover schlatt through dream smp, and by association lunch club and misfits. it's a different path, but i respect it (as long as you aren't one of those stans that hates on schlatt because you don't understand what a bit is ://) and if you're just now reading this fic because you've been recently introduced, welcome!
> 
> ALSO, i am officially out of prewritten chapters. i have no clue if the next update will be next friday- the next chapter is about halfway finished, so it'll depend on whether or not i can finish it with school crushing my spirit. i will try my hardest, though! and i really hope i see you guys in a week :) as always, thank you for all your support! love you all!


	7. interlude. ty

Carson doesn’t know where he is. Explosions are going off.

His body is moving, but it’s not  _ his  _ body. He’s just a spectator; he can feel the sole of his boots striking against the snow on the ground, but they’re not his feet. The sky of wherever he is is dazzling. Colors burst along it and sparkle in a way that makes him wonder if the explosions he’s hearing are fireworks. The way he stumbles and picks up his pace after another sounds off tells him they’re not.

He can’t quite tell what the landscape he’s running through is; the edges of his vision are blurred, everything shimmering faintly like the air above a grill on a hot summer’s day. He doesn’t know why he’s running. He’s not panicked about it, really- it’s like he’s watching a movie, feeling the cold wind snapping at his skin, but not really  _ feeling  _ it. Something catches his eye- a figure standing ahead in the snow, head tilted back and watching the colors bleed across the sky. There are other figures, to, dancing in the corners of his vision that he can’t quite focus on, but he immediately knows the one looking at the sky in awe is the one he’s running toward.

He opens his mouth and a voice that isn’t his yells something he doesn’t quite catch. The figure snaps their head to look at him, and he realizes they’re wearing a mask, circular and white, with a smiley face drawn on it crudely. There’s another explosion, this time close enough that it sends his left ear ringing, just as he grabs and pulls the figure into him by their shoulders with one hand, half tackling them, and gestures wildly with his other. A blindly bright arc of fire slices through the air around him as he does, and there’s the sound of something sizzling and snapping.

“I couldn’t find you,” the figure, who he’s still holding tight, gasps out, coughing a little from the smoke.

Carson, or whoever he is, doesn’t respond, harshly dragging the figure and himself over to what looks like the overhang of a cliff. The two of them crouch down next to the rocky wall, the overhang providing coverage from whatever was happening in the air.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the voice snaps from Carson’s vocal chords, deeper than Carson’s, completely devoid of an accent in the concise way it pronounces every syllable. “What were you  _ thinking _ ?”

The figure rips their mask off, revealing a young looking, dark-complected boy with startlingly pink eyes and a bandanna tied around his head. There’s a gash on his cheek, not too deep looking, but bleeding nonetheless.

“My party got ambushed, I wanted to come back and help you-”

“You should  _ not  _ be in the middle of a  _ battlefield _ , Ty!”

The boy- Ty, it seems- frowns.

“Well, I didn’t know it was going to be a battlefield!”

Carson feels the body he’s spectating from sigh and rub at his temples tiredly, the texture of his skin feeling strange for a reason he can’t place.

“Neither did I,” he admits quietly. “I, uh. I think Ryan backed out on us.”

Ty’s brilliantly pink eyes widen, his lips parting in shock.

“What?” he breathes. “How- how could he?”

“I don’t know, Ty, I don’t know,” the man’s voice says, and there’s a slight tremor in it. “We’re completely on the defense now. We have to- we have to save face. Alexis is losing the front down in Mexico, and things aren’t looking too good in America, either, they’re saying they’re threatening to send the D Team in, and I can’t- I can’t justify those losses. I’m working on a retreat.”

“What?” Ty cries out. “But, you said-”

“I  _ know _ . I know what I said back when I thought Beast was going to actually back us. But things are different now.”

Carson dimly notes that he has no clue what anything they’re saying means.

“Look, Ty, Wilbur’s taking a group of innocents down to Europe, to lay low for awhile. You have to go with him, stay away from anything related to the rebellion for awhile, you understand?”

“I can’t- I can’t  _ leave  _ you here!” Ty protests, glancing over at the chaos occurring on the snowy field, chaos that Carson can’t focus in on, a blur of colors and carnage.

“Yes, you can,” the man's voice says firmly. “Because it’s an order, Ty.”

“What if you get hurt?” Ty insists.

“What if- what if  _ you  _ get hurt, Ty?” Carson’s host snaps. “I dragged you into this, and I’ll drag you out of it.”

Ty stands and Carson feels his body follow, as well as his left hand extend, a portal jumping into existence on the cliff face, glowing a bright blue and with shifting rings of runes, similar to Tommy’s. Ty looks from the portal, to Carson, to back again.

“You can’t-” Ty’s voice breaks a little. “I want to stay.”

With another flick of his wrist, Ty is encased in a ring of the same blinding fire from before, trapped, with no way to move but through the portal. He stares at Carson from over the flames, brow furrowed in a betrayed expression.

“So this is it,” Ty says, gesturing frustratedly. “You’re giving up.”

There’s a moment of silence, save for the crackling of the fire and the faint yelling and explosions in the distance.

“I’m doing what I can,” the voice says quietly.

Even in his vague state of awareness, Carson is still struck by the hopeless look on Ty’s face.

“Am I ever going to see you again?”

“I-” Carson feels his throat close, feels himself not be able to spit the words out. “I don’t know, Ty.”

There’s an explosion close enough to them that Carson sees pieces of rock crumbling off of the cliff face, scattering in the snow. He ducks down, holding a hand out to edge the fire closer to Ty, pushing him closer to the portal.

“Tell Wilbur…” he hesitates. “Tell Wilbur he was right. About everything. He’ll know what I mean.”

The next explosion sends Carson’s vision white, sends his ears ringing almost loud enough to completely cover the sound of the voice coming from him, yelling something Carson can’t make out as he feels himself slip back into consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey,,,, how yall doin,,,,
> 
> they're alive! kind of! i have no doubt some of you have abandoned all hope for this fic and jumped ship, which, fair. i got caught up in college applications and other boring shit like that, as well as sort of drifting more into dream smp territory than lunch club (may she rest in peace), but i'm still kickin'! this was originally going to be the beginning of the next chapter, which is about halfway through being written, though it's remained untouched for awhile, but i decided to post it as a sort of interlude to signal that i am in fact alive and planning on continuing this. there's a lot of little hints to the lore there, so hopefully that's enough to entertain you while i stop dragging my feet and finish the next chapter.
> 
> thank you for all your kind words so far, and thank you so much if you've stuck around! this fic is very near and dear to my heart, so i'm praying to all the muses and gods of ao3 that i actually get the discipline and inspiration to continue. until then, have this little tidbit :)


	8. uh oh

Hey, guys.

So clearly this work is going to be discontinued. Carson's been a long time comfort creator for me and was certainly my favorite out of the bunch, hence why I made him the protagonist of this story- I felt like I got him the most. I felt like I understood his character enough to write through his perspective. Clearly, this was not the case. As much as I'm upset about letting go of him as a creator, since I clearly can't support him or his content anymore, I'm also upset about being made to abandon this fic. I put a lot of work and effort into this fic, and while my progress had certainly been slowing, I did intend on continuing it. However, I recognize that that's the risk I run when writing RPF. I do regret putting so much time into a project that's now tainted for me, but I don't regret sharing it online. All of you have been the most receptive and supportive group of readers I've ever had for a fic, and it was a really great time! I hope you all are doing well, not just with this whole situation, but also with the world in general. Thank you for all of your support over these past few months. I might start something else, who knows! Something more Dream SMP orientated probably, but I do love my (remaining) Lunch Club boys so perhaps they'll show up again.

Thank you again for everything. To steal a line from one Connor Eats Pants, love you all, parasocially.

**Author's Note:**

> hey there! this fic is going to contain a wide variety of special guest appearances from all around the youtube and twitch community, but will stay heavily focused on lunch club and the misfits. i'll keep updating the character tags as they appear! i've got a few chapters written for this already, so expect semi regular updates for awhile, at least. kudos and comments mean so much to me, so if u wanna tell me your thoughts on this first chapter, i'd love to hear it! thanks for reading :)


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